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PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


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V 


DISCOURSE^       OC"l  2'd  1925 


ON 


THE    LORD'S    PRATER. 


J 


BY  E.  H.   CHAPIN. 


BOSTOI^: 
N.  E.    UNIVERSALIST  PUBLISHING  HOUES, 

No.     37     CORNHILL. 

1866. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY   A.    TOMPKINS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


TO 

THE   SOCIETY   AND   CONGREGATION 

BEFORE   WH9M 
THESE    DISCOURSES    WERE    DELIVERED, 

THI3   BOOK 

IB  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE     AUTHOK. 


CONTENTS. 


DISCOURSE    I. 

"  Our  Father  -which  art  in  heaven."— Matthew  vi.  9 11 

DISCOURSE    II. 

«'  Hallowed  be  thy  name." — Matthew  vi.  9 29 

DISCOURSE    III. 

»«  Thy  Kingdom  come." — Matthew  vi.  10 47 

DISCOURSE    IV. 

''  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." — Matthew  vi,  10.    71 

DISCOURSE    V. 

«'  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." — Matthew  vi.  11 91 

DISCOURSE    VI. 

**  And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors." — Mat- 
thew vi.  12 113 


Vlll-  CONTENTS. 

DISCOURSE    VII. 

"  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation." — Matthew  vi.  13 139 

DISCOURSE    VIII. 

"  But  deliver  us  from  evil." — Mattheve  vi.  13 163 

DISCOURSE    IX. 

•'  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory,  forever. 
Amen."- • -Matthew  vi.  13 185 


PREFACE. 


The  plan  and  purpose  of  this  series  are  stated  in  the  prehminary 
remarks  in  the  first  discourse.  It  has  not  been  my  object  to  give  a 
critical  exposition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  but  to  draw  from  it  those 
practical  suggestions  -which  may  at  once  enable  us  to  repeat  it  with 
a  more  intelhgent  and  devout  sphit,  and  to  act  out  the  great  truths 
which  it  involves  in  our  daily  work  and  conversation.  In  short,  the 
great  result  which  I  aim  at  in  these  discourses  is  that  state  of  heart 
and  conduct  in  which  we  shall  utter  this  prayer  both  with  our  lips 
and  with  our  Uves.  The  reader  of  this  book,  then,  need  not  expect 
to  find  in  it  anything  new  in  thought  or  interpretation,  but  I  trust 
that  whoever  may  take  it  up  for  the  purpose  of  quickening  his  reli- 
gious affections,  and  animating  him  in  the  Christian  hfe,  may  not  be 
disappointed — may  find  some  help  and  profit. 

I  am  conscious,  however,  that  but  httle  is  said  here  compared  with 
what  might  be,  upon  this  pregnant  and  beautiful  formula.  Like  all 
our  Savior's  teachings,  we  detect  in  it  new  suggestions  each  time 
that  we  examine  it — we  find  in  it  truths  that  cannot  be  exhausted, 
and  meanings  that  cannot  be  expressed.  But  my  labors  such  as 
they  are,  and  with  the  object  which  1  have  stated,  are  here  present- 
ed. May  they  be  blessed  of  Him  to  whom  so  may  ages  and  condi- 
tions of  humanity  have  Hfted  and  will  lift  this  prayer,  and  may  they 
contribute  something  to  the  advancement  of  his  cause  who  taught 
us  to  utter  it.  E.  H.  C. 

New-York,     Dec.  11th,  1849. 


DISCOURSES 


LORD'S    PRAYER. 


DISCOURSE    I 


"  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." — Matthew  vi :  9. 

I  INVITE  your  attention  for  a  few  Sabbath  evenings, 
to  a  series  of  discourses  upon  the  Lord's  Prayer.  It  is 
not  my  purpose  to  enter  into  any  critical  disquisition  upon 
this  great  Formula.  Some  of  its  general  characteristics, 
and  some  reflections  pertaining  to  it  as  a  whole,  I  reserve 
for  my  concluding  remarks.  But  I  propose  to  make  each 
sentence  the  text  of  a  sermon,  and  to  draw  from  the  truth 
it  affirms,  or  suggests,  its  practical  applications  to  the 
workings  of  Christianity  and  the  condition  of  the  world, 
to  human  life,  and  to  the  individual  heart.  At  the  same 
time  it  will  be  my  endeavor  to  excite  that  sentiment  of 
devotion  which  this  Prayer  is  intended  to  assist,  and  to 
explain  its  several  passages.  Thus,  in  fact,  I  shall  aim 
to  induce  the  end  of  all  real  prayer,  which  consists  both 
of  action  and  aspiration,  of  inward  communion  and  of 


12  OUR    FATHER    WHICH    ART    IN    HEAVEN. 

outward  conduct — which  is,  essentially,  a  desire,  a  wor- 
-  ship,  and  a  work.  The  clearer  our  apprehension  of  truth 
• — the  more  intense  and  personal  our  experience  of  it — 
the  richer  and  the  deeper  will  be  our  devotion.  While, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  more  fervent  and  habitual  our 
devotion,  the  quicker  shall  we  detect,  the  more  shall  we 
know,  the  better  shall  we  obey,  the  truth.  The  man  who 
merely  says  the  Lord's  Prayer,  as  a  prescribed  routine 
of  words,  evidently  does  not  feel  the  sentiments  which 
it  breathes,  nor  see  the  great  doctrines  which  it  affirms. 
I  shall  consider  it  in  these  discourses,  then,  both  as  a 
Series  of  Truths,  and  a  Form  of  Devotion,  and  if  thus, 
to  any  degree,  I  may  be  instrumental  in  producing  the 
two-fold  result  which  has  been  spoken  of,  I  shall  indeed 
be  glad,  and' upon  that  endeavor  I  now  humbly  invoke 
the  Blessing  of  God. 

The  Lord's  Prayer  appropriately  commences  with  the 
words  of  the  text.  God,  who  is  the  object  of  all  true 
worship,  is  the  primary  Idea  of  all  being.  His  existence 
alone  explains  the  existence  of  anything.  Atheism  is 
not  only  irreligious,  it  is  absurd.  It  not  only  denies  the 
great  postulate  of  faith  and  of  devotion,  but  it  breaks  the 
whole  chain  of  physical  causation  and  of  material  neces- 
sity. For  there  must  be  a  Cause,  else  whence  all  these 
effects  ?  There  must  be  an  independent  Power,  else 
upon  what  do  all  these  things  rely  ? — that  Power  must  be 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        13 

intelligent,  else  whence  come  this  mutual  correspondence, 
this  order,  and  this  harmony  ?  Therefore,  if  the  universe 
is  a  mere  machine,  if  matter  is  the  only  reality,  still  its 
beginning  and  its  end  must  be  God, 

But  matter  is  not  the  only  reality.  There  is  a  class  of 
facts  which  a  mere  intellectual  Force,  or  pantheistic  Es- 
sence, does  not  satisfy.  The  moral  nature  of  man — the 
region  of  conscience  and  the  will — requires  something 
more  than  the  abstract  Deity  of  the  philosopher.  The 
existence  of  the  will,  indicates  the  existence  of  a  Sover- 
eignty which  the  will  should  obey.  The  motions  of  con- 
science demonstrate  a  Law  of  which  conscience  is  the 
suggestion.  The  God  of  the  physical  universe  is  also  a 
moral  Being,  else  our  moral  nature  is  inexplicable.  He 
is  the  Source  of  virtue  and  the  Sanction  of  duty. 

But  God  is  the  source  of  virtue,  and  the  sanction  ol 
duty,  because  He  is  the  best  Being.  Duty  is  binding, 
and  virtue  supreme,  because  these  meet  and  mingle  in 
the  character  of  Infinite  Goodness.  God,  considered 
only  as  a  King  and  a  Lawgiver,  does  not  fill  the  whole 
sphere  of  being.  There  is  still  a  class  of  facts  not  ac- 
counted for  by  the  existence  of  One  who  only  ordains 
conscience  and  commands  the  will,  any  more  than  these 
moral  faculties  are  accounted  for  by  a  mere  Intellectual 
Force  that  constructs  the  flower  and  moves  the  planet. 

In  our  nature  there  are  quenchless  affections,  yearning 
2 


14        OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN. 

sympathies  and  eager  desires.  These  call  for  something 
more  than  God  the  Creator,  or  God  the  Ruler.  Stirred 
by  these,  we  ask  the  all-important  question — "  What  is 
this  Infinite  Being  by  whose  fiat  we  exist,  and  whose  law 
we  are  commanded  to  obey  ?  What  is  His  disposition 
toward  us  ?  What  are  our  relations  to  Him  ?"  We 
cannot  escape  His  presence — we  are  nothing  before  His 
power.  He  wraps  us  about  more  intimately  than  the 
light,  or  the  air.  He  holds  us  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 
One  motion  of  his  will,  and  we  appear — flakes  of  being 
drifting  across  the  abyss  of  eternity !  One  breath  of  His 
nostrils,  and  we  pass  away!  How  inevitable  is  our 
condition !  We  cannot  alter  its  great  circumstances. 
The  irresistible  current  of  existence  bears  us  along.  We 
cannot  deny  life,  nor  hinder  death.  We  cannot  climb 
beyond  the  bars  of  our  earthly  dwelling-place,  nor  change 
our  own  essential  nature.  And  what  a  wonderful  and 
awful  thought  is  the  bare  idea  of  being  I  How  startling, 
when  we  stop  and  seriously  think  of  it !  And  what  a 
strange  existence  is  this  in  which  we  are  involved, — made 
up  of  permanence  and  mutation,  crossed  with  good  and 
evil.  And  here  we  are,  thus  ordained,  thus  controlled, 
surrounded  by  these  lights  and  shadows,  swinging  among 
these  glittering  islands  and  these  gulfs  of  mystery !  And, 
I  repeat,  all  is  not  satisfied  when  we  learn  thai  these 
skillful  forms  about  us  had  a  Maker,  and  that  these  sane- 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        15 

lions  within  us  have  a  Source.  The  affections,  the  cHng- 
ing  sympathies,  the  mounting  desires  of  every  man,  cry 
out — "  What  is  God  ?  How  does  He  regard  me  ?  What 
are  the  ties  between  us  ?  What  are  His  purposes  con- 
cerning me  ?"  These  sentiments  find  rest,  and  these 
questions  are  answered,  when  we  ascertain  that  God  is 
Qood;  that  goodness  is  His  essential  nature;  that  this  is 
the  soul  of  all  His  attributes,  and  the  spring  of  all  His 
purposes;  that  this  prompted  His  creative  work,  and 
dictates  His  moral  rule — and  thus,  in  this  expression  of 
God,  the  whole  circle  of  being  is  accounted  for,  and  sa- 
tisfied. 

And  yet,  in  order  that  we  may  consistently  apprehend 
this  truth,  in  order  that  it  may  have  a  fixed  and  clear 
expression  for  us,  something  more  is  needed  th^n  a  men- 
tal conception  of  God.  Though  reason  may  find  out 
His  nature,  and  the  soul  acknowledge  it,  we  cannot  thus 
grasp  the  idea  of  Infinity,  or  intensely  realize  His  relation 
to  us.  Though  His  character  flashes  out  in  every  sun- 
beam and  His  presence  is  felt  in  every  breath  of  wind, 
yet,  while  having  no  clue  but  nature,  man  forms  confu- 
sed and  partial  notions  of  Him,  sinking  into  the  gross- 
ness  of  idolatry,  or  soaring  among  the  mazes  of  philoso- 
phy ;  making  God  a  mighty  abstraction,  or  a  deformed 
embodiment;  with  a  beautiful  Pantheism,  conceiving 
Him  as  the  universal  and  inseparable  essence  of  nature, 


16        OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN. 

or,  with  a  hideous  devotion,  carving  His  image  in  wood 
and  stone. 

/\  We  need  an  objective  representation,  a  personal  ex- 
pression  of  God.  We  need  some  name  that  shall  signify 
the  complete  qualities  of  His  Nature — that  shall  combine 
our  sublimest,  devoutest,  and  tenderest  ideas  of  Him. 
We  want  an  image  of  the  Deity  that  this  finite  intellect 
can  steadily  see,  that  this  wandering  will  and  insufficient 
conscience  can  intelligently  represent  and  obey,  that  this 
yearning  and  agitated  heart  can  rest  upon  and  love ;  and 
we  want  one  epithet  which  shall  express  all  these  charac- 
teristics at  the  same  time — which  shall  tell  their  essential 
unity  and  speak  their  highest  meaning.  My  friends,  that 
Image  has  been  given  us  in  Jesus  Christ.  That  epithet 
he  has  taught  us  in  that  word  expressive  at  once  of  the 
giving  of  life,  the  claims  of  authority,  and  the  quality  of 

,  j  goodness — that  name  of  cause,  and  veneration,  and  love 
■ — the  name  of  Father. 

This,  then,  is  why  I  said  that  the  Lord's  Prayer  appro- 

'^  priately  begins  as  it  does,  not  only  with  God,  who  is  the 
object  of  all  devotion,  but  with  a  name  significant  of  His 
full  nature,  of  His  peculiar  relations  to  us.  Not  only 
with  a  name  which  even  the  old  Pagan  might  use,  but 
with  a  name  which  Christ  alone  has  taught  us,  and  which 
he  alone  has  illustrated.  And  this  great  truth — the  Pa- 
ternity of  God — which  he  has  bid  us  remember  in  the 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        17 

solemn  act  of  prayer,  is,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  vital  truth 
of  the  Gospel.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  term  in  the 
text  is  not  a  solitary  one.  It  was  frequent  on  the  lips  of 
Christ.  He  came  especially  to  exhibit  the  great  fact 
which  it  affirms.  Nor  can  I  believe  that  it  is  used  in 
any  sense  which  forbids  its  universal  application.  All 
may  employ  it.  It  expresses  God's  relation  to  all.  .What- 
ever may  be  the  limitation  of  the  term  under  peculiar 
circumstances,  its  essential  interpretation  is  exhibited  in 
the  very  spirit  of  Christianity ;  its  broad  scope,  its  mighty 
'leaning,  is  illustrated  in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 
But  let  us  consider  more  specifically  this  truth  of  God's 
Paternity,  and  thus,  while  we  detect  its  essential  signifi- 
cance, we  shall  find  further  evidence  of  its  application 
to  all  men  In  what  sense,  then,  is  God  our  Father  ? 
We  have  often  used  this  epithet ; — do  we  really  under- 
stand it  ?  It  may  be  a  cardinal  article  of  our  faith,  but 
is  it  only  a  trite  and  unconsidered  proposition  with  us  ? 
Is  it  the  sincere  expression  of  our  moral  nature,  the  con- 
viction of  our  reason  and  the  testimony  of  our  expe- 
rience ?  God  is  not  our  Father  simply,  as  the  Author 
of  our  existence.  If  so,  then  is  He  Father  to  the  clod 
of  the  valley,  and  the  drop  of  dew.  But  this  title  ex- 
presses a  quality  different  from  mere  creative  energy.  It 
declares  a  relation  which  the  Deity  does  not  sustain  to 
all  things.     Not  in  the  sense  in  which  He  is  the  former 


18  OUR    FATHER    WUICH    ART    IN    HEAVEN. 

of  our  bodies  is  he  the  Father  of  our  spirits.  Nor,  again, 
is  God  our  Father  simply  as  our  Benefactor.  For  then 
He  would  be  Father  to  the  beast  of  the  field  and  the 
bird  of  the  air.  But  something  more  is  implied  in  the 
relationship  we  are  now  considering  than  mere  Goodness 
— the  Benevolence  that  appears  in  the  adaptations  and 
provides  for  the  wants  of  every  sentient  being.  Nor 
should  we  conceive  the  Paternity  of  God  as  the  overflow 
of  an  indiscriminate  Good- will.  We  should  not  dishonor 
it,  by  attributing  to  it  any  weakness  or  incongruity.  It 
is  perfectly  compatible  with  justice  and  sovereignty,  with 
chastisement  and  discipline,  with  pain  and  sorrow. 

God  is  our  Father  in  a  spiritual  sense.  He  is  our 
Father,  because  we  alone,  of  all  earthly  existences,  bear 
His  image.  Because,  in  finite  degree,  we  have  a  nature 
like  His  own.  As  man  was  the  crowning  act  of  His 
creation,  so  was  he  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  His 
works.  Those  He  called  into  being  by  a  word ;  this  He 
molded  with  peculiar  care,  and  into  it  He  breathed  a 
living  soul.  He  evinces  His  Paternal  relation  to  us, 
not  merely  through  the  general  bounties  of  nature,  but 
by  the  special  gifts  of  Revelation — not  alone  by  the  be- 
nignant privilege,  but  by  the  solicitous  discipline  of  life. 
Not  only  does  He  bestow  upon  us  animal  comforts,  but 
He  seeks  to  impart  to  us  more  of  His  own  character. 
In  one  word,  like  the  good  earthly  parent,  He  educates 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        19 

US.  And  this  education  is  to  be  attained  not  by  easy  in- 
dulgence and  perpetual  enjoyment,  but  by  unstinted  ex- 
ertion, through  conflicts,  trials,  bitter  experiences.  All 
that  tends  to  make  us  spiritually  pure,  strong  and  free, 
exhibits  more  clearly  the  relation  between  God  and  man 
and  shows  that  it  is  a  peculiar  relation. 

It  is  obvious,  then,  that  the  Paternity  of  God  is  not 
limited  to  any  class  of  men,  because  every  man  has  the 
spiritual  peculiarities  to  which  that  relation  is  attached. 
The  most  feeble  and  degraded  of  our  race  is  separated 
by  a  broad  line  from  all  other  creatures.  There  is  a 
moral  deep  in  him,  a  spiritual  power,  which,  obscured  as 
it  is,  is  not  the  possession  of  any  other  earthly  being,  and 
is  a  dim  image  of  the  eternal.  Under  the  cloud  of  sin 
and  the  corruptions  of  sensualism,  there  is  embosomed 
an  essence  which  reflects  the  overshadowing  of  its  Infi- 
nite Original,  and  sparkles  in  response  to  the  uncreated 
Light.  His  are  unlimited  capacities  and  an  independent 
will.  His  are  ceaseless  aspirations,  and  immortal  long- 
ings. His  is  a  divine  birth-right,  depraved  but  not  wholly 
obliterated — a  nature  not  intrinsically  mean,  but  aliena- 
ted and  discrowned.  Yes,  of  the  most  ignorant  savage, 
of  the  vilest  wretch  we  spurn,  we  may  say  all  this.  He 
is  a  child  of  the  Infinite  Spirit.  God  is  his  Father.  His 
Father,  not  in  any  abstract  and  metaphorical  sense,  but 
in  a  relation  whose  scope  and  intensity,  whose  grandeur 


20  OUR    FATHER    WHICH    ART    IN    HEAVEN. 

and  tenderness,  overwhelm  our  thoughts  and  far  exceed 
our  expression. 
J  And  yet,  while  God  is  thus  essentially  the  Father  of 
all  men,  there  is  a  practical  sense  in  which  He  is  spe- 
cially the  Father  of  some.  He  was  the  Father  of  Christ 
in  a  respect  in  which  He  is  not  our  Father,  and  He  is 
the  Father  of  the  good,  in  a  sense  in  which  He  is  not 
the  Father  of  the  bad.  This  may  be  termed  not  so  much 
a  change  in  Him,  as  a  peculiarity  of  condition  in  us. 
Just  in  proportion  as  we  realize  our  spiritual  nature, 
we  realize  our  relation  to  Him.  We  perceive  Him  to 
be  our  Father  in  the  degree  in  which  we  perceive  the 
grounds  of  that  Paternity.  Essentially,  I  repeat,  He  is 
the  Father  of  all  men  ;  but  practically,  subjectively.  He 
is  not  the  Father  of  the  man  who  forgets  His  existence, 
overlooks  His  Providence,  disregards  His  requirements, 
and  in  fact,  lives  "  without  God  in  the  world."  For  there 
are  no  filial  aspirations  in  the  heart  of  such  a  man.  He 
has  no  child-like  trust,  or  communion.  To  him,  there  is 
no  spiritual  hfe  in  the  motions  of  the  universe,  no  ex- 
pression of  infinite  tenderness  upon  its  face.  Worship- 
ping the  objects  of  sense,  he  does  not  notice  the  intense 
longings  of  his  own  soul.  Swept  in  the  sounding  tide 
of  passion,  he  hears  not  "  the  still,  small  voice,"  inviting 
to  a  holier  and  serener  course.  God's  love  is  over  him, 
and  God's  mercy  waits  on  him ;  but,  in  his  sensualism 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN,        21 

and  sin,  he  does  not  see  the  Father.  He  does  not  realize 
his  relationship  to  God,  and,  therefore,  so  far  as  it  depends 
upon  his  action,  that  relationship  is  as  though  it  were  not. 

Here,  too,  is  the  man  of  mere  intellect,  who  sees  only 
with  the  acute  but  narrow  vision  of  logic  ;  whose  head 
has  no  arterial  connection  with  his  heart ;  whose  dry- 
light  of  reason  retains  no  glow  from  the  affections.  He 
sees  nothing  in  the  transfigured  aspect  of  beauty,  or 
through  the  atmosphere  of  love.  To  him,  the  unrolled 
ocean  suggests  only  depth  and  quantity,  and  the  heavens 
sparkle  merely  with  mathematical  diagrams.  He  con- 
structs nicely-balanced  theories,  but  they  are  as  cold  as 
they  are  clear,  and  untrue  because  they  are  partial.  He 
sees  only  with  the  intellect.  He  rests  upon  no  basis 
profounder  than  the  intellect.  «  He  lacks  sympathy,  he 
lacks  moral  enthusiasm,  he  lacks  religious  life.  Having 
no  atfectionate  affinities,  he  does  not  feel  or  see  the  Pa- 
ternity of  God.  To  him,  the  Deity  is  merely  a  First 
Cause,  an  abstract  Intelligence. 

But,  to  the  man  of  spiritual  aims  and  devout  senti- 
ment, of  pure  affections  and  of  right  reason,  there  is  no 
truth  so  great,  so  central,  so  apparent,  as  this  of  the  Pa- 
ternity of  God.  The  Gospel  is  full  of  it.  It  appears  in 
every  lineament  of  the  universe.  It  is  the  meaning  of 
creation,  the  explanation  of  human  history,  the  horizon 
of  reconciliation  that  broods  around  all  the  mystery  of 


22        OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN, 

life.  The  man  who  believes  this  great  truth,  always 
holds  in  his  bosom  a  conscious  joy  and  an  everlasting 
spring  of  hope.  He  is  never  alone.  Nothing  to  him  ap- 
pears empty,  or  desolate.  The  solitary  chamber,  the 
savage  desert,  for  him  is  filled  with  a  Being  whom  he 
loves  and  adores.  He  throws  open  his  window  to  the 
night-sky,  and,  while  all  is  still  and  slumbering  below, 
above  him,  farther  than  eye  can  reach  or  thought  ascend 
kindles  the  outspread  glory  of  the  Father.  He  rejoices 
to  come  with  filial  trust  in  all  perplexities,  and  shelter 
himself  under  this  brooding  Paternity.  He  feels  the 
heart  of  infinite  Love  beating  close  to  his  heart,  and 
throbbing  through  all  the  pulses  of  the  universe.  Nor  is 
this  the  emotion  of  diluted  sentiment.  God's  essential 
Paternity  lends  glory  to  all  His  attributes  ;  His  Wisdom, 
Justice,  Truth  and  Power — it  kindles  in  the  soul  a  loftier 
and  serener  spirit  of  devotion,  touches  the  spring  of  pen- 
itence, and  makes  us  good  because  He  is  good.  Evil 
men  may  proclaim  the  Fatherhood  of  God  with  their 
lips.  But  it  is  not  the  bad  and  the  weak,  who  really 
comprehend  its  meaning.  The  deeper  our  moral  life  and 
the  keener  our  spiritual  vision,  the  clearer  appears  this 
truth.  The  more  we  are  like  Christ,  the  more  do  we 
realize  it,  the  more  confidingly  do  we  rest  under  it,  the 
closer  does  it  make  our  communion,  with  more  pro- 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        23 

found  significance  do  we  say — "  Our  Father  which  art  in 
heaven !" 

Such  is  the  sense  in  which  God  is  our  Father,  and  the 
Father  of  all  men.  He  is  our  Father  and  theirs,  because 
we  are  all  spiritual  beings.  And,  yet,  this  relation,  com- 
paratively, is  as  though  it  were  not,  until  we  realize  it. 
We  realize  it  as  we  become  more  and  more  like  Him. 
In  bringing  these  remarks  to  a  close,  then,  let  me  urge 
upon  you  the  importance  of  realizing  this  truth,  that  you 
may  understand  the  words  with  which  you  commence 
this  prayer,  that  you  may  strive  for  that  spiritual  condi- 
tion in  which  only  you  can  truly  know  Him  whom  you 
address. 

First,  then,  it  is  important  we  should  realize  that  God 
is  our  Father,  in  order  that  we  may  have  right  views  of 
Religion.  How  essential  such  views  are  to  our  con- 
duct and  our  peace,  I  need  not  say.  We  do  not  all 
live  as  we  believe — we  do  not  carry  out  practically  the 
utmost  inferences  of  our  creed.  Some  of  us  are  worse, 
it  may  be  some  of  us  are  better  than  our  faith.  But  yet 
in  some  degree  our  faith  affects  our  character — to  a  great 
extent,  it  colors  our  view  of  life.  If  God  is  the  begin- 
ning of  all  things.  He  is,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  the  begin- 
ning of  our  religion.  Our  highest  endeavors  after  virtue 
will  be  attempts  to  imitate  Him.  Our  decision  upon 
specific  questions  of  right  and  wrong  will  be  governed 


24  OUR    FATHER    WHICH    ATR    IN    HEAVEN. 

by  our  conceptions  of  the  Divine  nature.  We  shall  re- 
ligiously cherish  those  sentiments  of  which  He  is  the  ab- 
solute Expression.  The  view  which  we  entertain  of 
Him,  affects  the  whole  spirit  of  the  New-Testament. 
This  is  the  radical  interpretation  of  texts  and  doc- 
trines. Should  God  appear  as  a  different  Being  from 
what  He  does  now,  the  whole  burden  of  the  Gospel 
would  be  changed  to  us.  On  the  other  hand,  he  who 
has  been  wandering  in  the  maze  of  false  conceptions, 
and  upon  whom,  at  length,  has  burst  the  truth  of  God's 
Paternity,  opens  his  Bible  as  a  new  book.  Christianity 
spreads  around  him  a  firmament  of  sudden  glory,  and 
reveals  to  his  eye  unexpected  riches. 

Again,  it  is  important  we  should  realize  the  truth  of 
God's  Paternity,  because  of  its  consolations.  I  have 
just  said  that  it  reconciles  the  mysteries  of  life.  To  the 
purpose  of  the  great  Father  we  must  often  refer  these 
mysteries.  "  That  God  has  some  good  end  in  view,"  is 
the  conviction  that  enables  us  to  bear  up  under  them. 
Our  reason  cannot  penetrate  them.  All  evil,  in  fact  the 
very  existence  of  evil,  is  inexplicable  until  we  refer  to 
the  Paternity  of  God.  It  hangs  a  huge  blot  in  the  uni- 
verse, until  the  orb  of  Divine  Love  rises  behind  it.  In 
that  apposition  we  detect  its  meaning.  It  appears  to  us 
but  a  finite  shadow  as  it  passes  across  the  disc  of  Infinite 
light.     It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  specify  the  instances 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        25 

in  which  the  truth  of  "  God  our  Father,"  brings  strength 
and  peace  to  the  human  soul.  How  deeply  is  it  illustra- 
ted in  the  experience  of  many  a  heart  beating  around 
me !  Without  any  God,  how  awful  would  be  the  course  of 
life !  We  should  be  drifting  across  the  sea  of  time,  with- 
out an  end  and  without  a  meaning.  Again,  without  the 
knowledge  of  God's  character,  our  journey  though  guided 
would  still  be  overshadowed  with  changeful  uncertain- 
ties. But  now,  knowing  that  He  is  our  Father,  through 
the  storm  and  the  night  we  may  trustingly  proceed,  for 
the  star  of  His  compassion  never  sets,  and  He  spans  our 
voyage  with  a  zodiac  of  promises. 

Once  more  ;  this  great  truth  furnishes  us  with  the  pro- 
foundest  motives  to  obedience.  The  basis  of  all  genuine 
service  is  love.  He  who  demands  the  surrender  of  our  will, 
and  the  devotion  of  our  hearts,  beams  upon  us  with  all 
the  claims  of  his  character.  How  can  we  turn  from 
such  a  service  ?  What  bliss  in  that  loyal  acquiescence, 
in  that  conscious  communion !  What  agony,  what  loss, 
in  that  alienation  and  neglect !  What  motive  to  repen- 
tance stronger  than  God's  Paternity  ?  What  encourage- 
ment to  rise  from  our  sins,  more  inspiring  than  His  grace? 
What  sanction  mightier  to  bind  us  to  His  law,  than  the 
Love  that  was  manifested  for  us  in  the  bleeding  sacrifice 
of  the  cross  ?  What  sting  of  retribution  keener  than 
the  thought  of  His  abused  mercies  and  His  slighted  prof- 


26        OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN. 

fers  ?  Oh !  the  doctrine  of  God's  Paternity,  in  its  full 
glory,  in  its  solemn  sweetness,  is  anything  but  a  weaken- 
ing influence  in  the  soul — is  anything  but  an  incitement 
to  sin.  If  we  would  only  realize  it,  we  should  burst 
these  fetters  of  self-will ;  we  should  leap  from  this  apathy 
and  indulgence ;  with  unsealed  hearts,  with  a  keen  and 
joyful  shame,  we  should  cry — "  Our  Father  which  art  in 
heaven !" 

Thus  have  I  endeavored  to  lead  you  to  some  conside- 
rations suggested  by  the  Text.  In  this  light,  then,  con- 
sider the  first  sentence  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.  "  In  this 
manner,"  says  the  Savior,  "therefore  pray  ye."  As 
though  assuredly  we  would  pray.  As  though  we  would 
do  that  which  he  taught  both  by  precept  and  example. 
As  though  we  might  be  perplexed  about  the  method,  but 
did  not  lack  in  disposition.  And,  yet,  how  many  do  lack 
in  the  disposition !  How  many  slight  this  high  privilege 
of  devotion  ;  rush  from  their  chambers  in  the  morning, 
drop  into  the  silence  of  slumber  at  night,  mingle  with 
the  temptations,  and  sins,  and  cares  of  the  world,  with- 
out a  single  uplifting  of  the  heart  to  God,  without  once 
seeking  communion  with  Him  whom  angels  worship,  and 
who  graciously  waits  to  hear !  Yes,  in  this  course  of 
weakness  and  uncertainty,  of  human  need  below  and 
Divine  help  above,  there  are  those  who  never  pray — or 


OUR  FATHER  WHICH  ART  IN  HEAVEN.        27 

with  whom  prayer  is  the  last  resort  in  calamity  and 
dismay. 

Yet  we  should  pray,  and  prayer  should  be  with  us  an 
habitual  reality  of  the  soul,  a  supreme  delight  in  the 
happiest  hours  of  life,  as  well  as  a  resource  in  its 
troubled  seasons.  And  when  we  pray,  let  us  say,  "  Our 
Father  which  art  in  heaven."  "  Our  Father."  The 
Father  of  all  men.  The  Religion  of  Christ  is  individual 
in  its  requirements,  but  general  in  its  applications.  It 
demands  the  solitary  discipline  and  the  social  work,  and 
even  in  our  most  secret  devotions  we  must  not  indulge 
the  limitations  of  selfishness,  but  remember  all  with 
whom  God  has  linked  us,  and  for  whom  we  should  la- 
bor; remember  all,  kindred,  friends,  enemies,  the  world. 

"  Which  art,"  now  even  as  of  old,  then  manifest  on 
the  mountain  and  in  the  thunder,  but  now  breathing  into 
our  souls  the  suggestions  of  His  spirit,  and  the  strength 
of  His  help.  "  Which  art  in  heaven."  In  the  region  ol 
spiritual  life,  everywhere  where  the  heart  will  seek  and 
the  thought  ascend. 

With  these  conceptions,  let  us  come  and  say — "  Our 
Father  !"  Yes,  thus  is  the  majesty  of  God  brought 
down  to  us.  Thus  is  His  Infinity  personified.  Thus  is 
His  exhaustless  Love  tenderly  expressed.  Without  this, 
how  awful,  how  overwhelming,  would  be  the  act  of  devo- 
tion !  Science  is  daily  revealing  to  us  a  wider  scope  and 
3 


28  OUR    FATHER    WHICH    ART    IN    HEAVEN. 

a  loftier  grandeur  in  the  universe.  To  the  exploring  eye 
it  opens  new  vistas  of  creation,  and  pours  upon  its  daz- 
zled vision  the  brightness  of  innumerable  suns.  And, 
among  these,  dimly  swings  this  atom  of  a  world,  and  far 
beyond  all  reaches  the  Infinity  of  God !  How  could  we 
have  confidence  to  look  up  to  Him,  through  all  these 
countless  myriads  and  this  intolerable  splendor  ?  And, 
again,  when  we  consider  His  Holiness  and  our  impurity, 
the  awfulness  of  God  and  the  insignificance  of  man,  were 
it  not  for  His  own  help,  we  should  not  dare  to  approach 
Him.  But  this  revelation  of  "  The  Father  "  has  swept 
away  all  the  barriers  of  distance,  it  has  streamed  into 
our  souls  through  all  the  glories  of  the  universe,  it  has 
touched  us  with  the  intimate  nearness,  the  infinite  con- 
descension of  God,  and  gathered  into  that  one  name  all 
that  is  venerable  with  all  that  is  lovely.  Let  us  habi- 
tually avail  ourselves,  then,  of  the  privilege  made  known 
to  us.  In  every  experience  of  life,  let  us  bring  to  His 
footstool  hearts  of  reverence  and  of  penitence,  of  holy 
desire  and  of  filial  trust. 


DISCOUESE    II 


"Hallowed  be  thy  name." — Matthew  vi:  9. 

In  the  preceding  discourse  we  considered  the  meaning 
of  the  term  "  Father,"  as  appHed  to  God.  Standing  at 
the  commencement  of  this  formula,  that  term  fixes  our 
minds  upon  the  nature  of  Him  whom  we  approach.  It 
defines  the  great  object  of  our  supplication  and  our  wor- 
ship. The  sentence — "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven," 
being,  therefore,  a  form  of  address,  the  text  constitutes 
the  first  desire,  or  petition,  of  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

The  connection  between  this  and  the  preceding  clause, 
however,  is  not  accidental  but  essential.  In  the  natural 
order  of  things,  we  cannot  pray  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name," 
until  we  know  what  that  name  is ;  and,  when  we  do 
know  it,  we  cannot  refrain  from  this  as  the  next  and  im- 
mediate expression.  It  is  the  outbursting  flame  of  a 
kindled  heart.  It  is  the  spontaneous  utterance  of  a  soul 
rapt  with  the  excellence  of  God,  and  postponing  its  per- 
sonal requests  in  a  general  desire. 

I  have  said  that  these  words  constitute  the  first  petition 


30  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

in  the  Lord's  Prayer.  But,  in  fact,  they  are  not  wholly 
a  petition.  The  sentiment  which  breathes  through  them, 
combines  both  petition  and  adoration.  It  mingles  the 
incense  of  homage  with  the  earnestness  of  a  wish.  It 
is  what  we  say  to  God  alone,  of  ourselves,  upon  the  reve- 
lation of  His  Fatherhood,  and  with  our  thoughts  fixed  in 
contemplation  of  His  attributes.  It  is  a  lyrical  exclama- 
tion, an  irrepressible  hallelujah.  And  yet,  I  repeat,  it  is 
a  prayer  also.  We  ask  as  well  as  say — "  Hallowed  be 
thy  name."  The  very  fact  that  we  sincerely  adore  that 
Name,  implies  a  desire  in  our  hearts  that  others  also  may 
render  homage  to  it,  and  that  we  ourselves  may  honor  it 
better.  As  a  prayer  then,  breaking  out  from  the  centre 
of  a  devout  worship,  as  a  prayer  that  ourselves  and  others 
may  be  more  devout,  I  propose  chiefly  to  consider  it  in 
this  discourse. 

The  form  of  expression  in  the  text  may  be  treated  in 
two  ways.  We  may  thus  pray  that  God  would  hallow 
His  own  Name,  or  that  we,  His  children,  may  hallow  it. 
This  two-fold  petition,  then,  will  separate  my  remarks 
under  two  heads. 

I.  In  breathing  this  prayer,  we  ask  that  God  would 
hallow  His  own  Name,  or  cause  it  to  he  hallowed.  The 
amount  of  this  petition,  the  condition  of  its  fulfillment, 
is,  simply,  this — that  our  Father  in  heaven  would  make 
Himself  known,  would  more  and  more  reveal  Himself 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  31 

unlo  US  and  unto  all  men.  This  clear  knowledge  is  the 
only  contingent  in  the  case ;  certainly  it  is  an  essential 
contingent.  Surely,  a  full  and  steady  perception  of  God, 
would  melt  every  heart  in  homage  before  Him.  For 
what  is  it  to  hallow  God's  name  ?  It  is  to  reverence  it. 
And  what  is  reverence  ?  Upon  what  does  it  depend  ? 
To  what  does  it  attach  itself?  I  answer,  in  the  first 
place,  that  it  is  not  the  tribute  which  w^e  pay  to  mere 
power  and  magnitude,  even  though  these  should  dilate  to 
infinity.  We  cannot  reverence  these  unmingled  with 
other  qualities.  Nature  appears  to  us  in  forms  of  great- 
ness, and  with  manifestations  of  power.  We  are  thrilled 
with  admiration,  we  crouch  in  awe,  before  its  revelations. 
We  are  lifted  up  with  emotions  of  subUmity.  But  we 
do  not  reverence  any  of  these.  We  never  apply  this 
term  in  regard  to  the  material  universe,  filled  as  it  is 
with  irresistible  forces,  and  immeasurable  magnitudes. 
Neither  do  we  reverence  mere  power,  when  exhibited  by 
man.  We  may  be  astonished  or  terrified  at  the  do- 
minion of  a  monarch,  or  the  triumphs  of  a  warrior.  But 
we  do  not  reverence  the  mere  greatness  that  is  symboli- 
zed by  a  throne,  or  the  success  that  is  crowned  with 
reeking  laurels.  Nor  can  we  reverence  even  a  great  in- 
tellect, separated  from  every  other  quality.  True,  intel- 
lectual energy  is  immensely  superior  to  the  physical  force 
of  nature,  or  the  circumstantial  power  of  the  king  and 


32  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

the  hero.  Far  better  than  the  tribute  that  we  render  in 
palaces,  or  pay  to  victorious  soldiers,  is  the  sentiment 
with  which  we  honor  that  master-power  beneath  which 
all  material  laws  are  plastic,  which  searches  the  secrets 
of  the  universe,  and  binds  us  in  its  chain  of  demonstra- 
tion. But  call  this  sentiment  wonder,  admiration,  enthu- 
siasm, what  we  will,  it  is  not  that  peculiar,  that  mingled 
feeling  which  we  term  reverence.  This  sentiment,  I  re- 
peat, is  not  rendered  to  mere  power,  or  greatness,  nay 
not  even  to  moral  power — where  the  qualities  displayed 
are  merely  persistence  and  energy. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  neither  do  we  reverence  mere 
kindness,  amiahility,  affection.  These  qualities  win  our 
esteem  and  our  love.  They  may  even  glorify  a  charac- 
ter that  is  deficient  in  other  respects.  They  may  com- 
pensate for  many  deformities.  They  may,  at  times,  im- 
part their  innate  energy  to  dullness,  indolence,  and  timi- 
dity. But,  after  all,  they  are  not  sufficient  to  stir  up  that 
profound  and  peculiar  feeling  which  we  are  now  consi- 
dering. Sometimes  degenerating  into  weakness,  and  ab- 
solute vice,  even  in  their  best  estate  they  lack  that  in- 
trinsic dignity  which  always  abides  in  the  object  we  truly 
reverence. 

Reverence,  my  friends,  is  a  sentiment  of  combined 
awe  and  love,  of  filial  trust  and  obedient  homage.  There 
are  few  to  whom  it  can  be  rendered,  and  these  must 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  33 

blend  in  their  nature  both  power  and  tenderness,  great- 
ness and  sympatliy,  authority  and  affection.  In  one 
word,  they  must  be  good,  not  in  the  sentimental  and 
hackneyed,  but  in  the  simplest  and  high-toned  sense.  None 
can  so  justly  claim  it  on  earth  as  they  who  really  fulfil 
the  parental  relation,  and,  therefore,  in  ascribing  the 
name  of  Father  to  the  Infinite  One,  we  also  ascribe  to 
Him  those  qualities  that  demand  our  reverence  magnified 
to  infinite  extent.  God  is  to  be  reverenced,  for  in  Him 
Power  and  Love,  Authority  and  Condescension,  mingle 
in  perfect  harmony.  And  just  in  proportion  as  His  na- 
ture breaks  out  upon  us  in  all  its  fullness,  we  shall  per- 
ceive its  demands  upon  us,  and  it  will  be  hallowed. 

Now  the  importance  of  a  full  knowledge  of  God,  in 
order  that  He  may  be  truly  reverenced,  truly  worshiped 
and  hallowed,  is  seen  in  the  existence  of  two  great  errors, 
each  resting  upon  a  religious  basis.  The  first  of  these, 
is  superstition.  They  who  are  misled  by  its  influence, 
are,  perhaps,  more  than  any,  so  far  as  mere  professions 
go,  strenuous  for  the  worship  of  God,  and  the  sanctions 
of  religion.  In  fact,  it  generally  passes  under  the  name 
of  religion,  and  it  is  animated  by  a  solicitous  reference 
to  the  Deity.  In  one  form  or  another,  God  is  besought, 
God  is  invoked.  Temples  are  decorated  to  His  honor, 
and  altars  steam  with  His  worship.  The  Druid  smears 
his  robes  with  human  blood,  and  the  Fakir  cuts  himself 


34  IIAI-LOWED    nE    THY    NAME. 

with  knives.  In  all  this  there  is  worship — but  it  is  an 
awful  worship.  There  is  a  deep  sense  of  God — but  He 
is  a  God  pavilioned  in  thunder,  and  clothed  with  dread- 
ful flame.  The  Deity  is  seen  as  Greatness  and  Power, 
but  His  Love  and  His  Mercy  are  obscured.  Or,  if  the 
light  of  Revelation  has  modified  these  savage  concep- 
tions, and  dispelled  these  gross  externals,  in  how  many 
instances  do  men  act  not  from  the  sentiment  of  reverence 
but  from  that  of  terror,  and  worship  God,  essentially,  as 
only  infinite  Greatness,  or  absolute  Power!  To  such, 
Religion  is  not  a  fresh  reality,  but  a  tradition  and  a  form. 
Duty  is  not  the  absolute  Right,  but  an  arbitrary  routine. 
Faith  is  not  rational,  but  imperative.  They  speak  of 
"  the  love  of  God,"  and  of  its  inward  experience,  yet 
how  often  is  this  a  strained  and  wavering  emotion,  some- 
times overflowing  in  a  bigoted  zeal,  sometimes  wrapped 
in  a  feverish  mysticism.  It  is  not  a  spontaneous  emo- 
tion. Its  interior  spring  is  terror,  and  its  expression  is 
constrained  and  fearful.  The  joy  of  true  love  is  not  in 
it.  It  does  not  spring  up,  like  living  water,  everlastingly. 
About  this  kind  of  religion — if  we  should  term  it  reli- 
gion— there  is  a  cloistered  narrowness  and  unreality. 
The  ample  air  and  the  glad  light  are  not  in  it.  God's 
benignity  does  not  overarch  the  universe.  His  benevo- 
lence does  not  animate  the  lineaments  of  nature.  His 
loving-kindness  does  not  consecrate  the  mysteries  of  life. 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  35 

His  Presence  is  not  a  consoling  and  uplifting  idea  in  the 
soul.  He  is  the  Deity  of  the  Law,  not  of  the  Gospel — 
the  Sovereign  who  spoke  through  the  thick  cloud  and 

he  trumpet-blast,  not  the  Father  who  beamed  in  Jesus 
Christ.  He  is  to  be  served  only  in  one  circle  of  duty, 
in  one  sphere  of  action,  not  in  various  forms  of  conduct. 
He  is  found  only  in  vaulted  churches,  or  in  a  "  dim,  re- 
ligious light,"  of  retirement ;  not  in  the  scenery  of  nature 
and  on  the  face  of  the  outward  world,  in  the  pomp  of 
the  heavens  and  the  festival  of  the  flowers,  in  the  reali- 
ties of  history  and  the  open  communions  of  daily  life. 
Now  this  idea  of  religion,  this  idea  of  God,  whatever 
its  symbols  or  its  name,  is  superstitious.  It  is  partial.  It 
conceives  only  a  Deity  of  absolute  Power  and  infinite 
Authority.  Its  terror  is  not  reverence.  God  is  worship- 
ed, but  His  name  is  not  truly  hallowed. 

The  other  religious  error  to  which  I  referred,  as  indi- 
cating a  partial  knowledge  of  God,  and  in  which,  there- 
fore, His  name  is  not  truly  hallowed,  may  be  called  an 
Epicurean  laxity,  or  wn-moral  sentimentalism.  In  this 
view,  the  Deity  is  virtually  regarded  as  merely  a  good- 
natured  Being,  too  gracious  to  punish  sin,  and  too  tender 
to  inflict  pain.  According  to  this  system,  evil  itself  is 
very  often  defined  as  an  unsubstantial  negation,  the  re- 
verse side  of  goodness,  and  sin  as  a  necessity,  or  misfor- 
tune on  the  part  of  man.     The  benevolence  of  God,  asi 


3G  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

it  appears  in  the  department  of  natural  theology,  is  much 
dwelt  upon.  In  the  volume  of  Revealed  Religion,  the 
jyj'omises  of  the  Gospel  almost  exclusively  occupy  the 
attention.  Now,  out  of  this  arise  many  amiable  and 
noble  conceptions.  The  heart  is  frequently  warmed  with 
generous  incentives,  and  swept  by  gushes  of  devout  rap- 
ture. The  universe  throbs  with  perpetual  gladness,  and 
life  is  lighted  up  with  everlasting  hope.  But,  after  all, 
this  theory  is  defective.  It  is  exclusive  and  superficial. 
It  lacks  moral  depth  and  stringency.  The  great  sanc- 
tions of  duty,  the  dignity  and  responsibility  of  free-agen- 
cy, the  profoundest  definitions  and  the  highest  ends  of 
goodness,  the  excellence  and  necessity  of  holiness,  do 
not  appear  in  it — or  appear  but  faintly.  It  does  not  con- 
tain that  which  prostrates  a  man  with  humility,  and 
smites  him  with,  contrition ;  which  sends  him  in  to  search 
his  own  heart,  and  to  wrestle  earnestly  with  his  own  na- 
ture, his  passions,  and  motives,  and  principles  of  life.  The 
guilt  of  sin  is  not  sufficiently  felt  and  pondered.  It  pre- 
sents too  few  incentives  to  prayer,  to  deep,  personal  me- 
ditation. Virtue  is  regarded  rather  as  mere  innocence 
than  an  athletic  attainment,  demanding  all  the  powers, . 
and  comprehending  the  highest  results  of  the  soul. 
It  induces  no  course  of  spiritual  discipline,  of  inner 
life  and  growth.  Nor  is  this  to  be  explained  merely 
by  saying,    that  those  who  occupy  this  position   have 


HALLOWED    BE    THY     NAME.  37 

adopted  religion  as  a  set  of  opinions  and  a  code  of  moral- 
ities, rather  than  a  principle  of  personal  and  spiritual 
life — as  a  view  of  truth,  rather  than  an  experimental  ap- 
plication of  it.  This  is  true  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  the 
error  has  sprung  from  a  partial  conception  of  God.  He 
has  been  considered  as  a  kind  and  merciful  Being,  but 
not  sufficiently  in  His  moral  nature  and  His  majesty. 
And  this  partial  conception  exists,  perhaps,  because  men 
have  not  entered  enough  into  their  own  moral  natures, 
but  have  looked  too  much  upon  the  surface  of  things. 
Yet,  whatever  may  be  the  original  processes  of  this  er- 
ror, I  repeat  it  subsists  upon  a  partial  conception  of  God. 
He  is  not  only  a  tender  Benefactor,  but  a  moral  Ruler, 
to  whom  virtue,  rectitude,  holiness,  is  supreme.  He  is 
the  best  Being.  He  is  truly  "  the  Father  of  our  spirits," 
because  in  Him  justice  blends  with  mercy,  righteousness 
with  kindness,  purity  with  condescension,  and  His  benig- 
nity is  one  with  infinite  power  and  infinite  authority. 
He  is  supremely  good,  but  goodness,  my  friends,  is  not 
indiscriminating  affection — is  not  a  sentiment  which 
would  dictate  the  bestowal  of  immediate  ease  regardless 
of  ends — but,  f»r  the  sake  of  permanent,  righteous  and 
blessed  ends,  it  often  prevents  immediate  ease.  And  in 
nothing  is  the  goodness  of  God  more  evident  than  in  the 
fact  that   He  has  precipitated  man  upon  the  balance  of 

free-agency,  that  by  his  own  choice  and  by  the  eflbrts  of 
8 


38  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

his  own  will,  he  might  attain  not  only  the  bliss  but  the 
intrinsic  life  and  power  of  virtue.  In  nothing  is  the 
goodness  of  God  more  evident  than  in  the  fact  that,  as 
man  is  a  free-agent,  he  has  been  made  subject  to  moral 
sanctions,  and  placed  in  a  world  of  discipline,  for  only 
by  spiritual  struggles  within,  and  impediments  of  evil 
without,  could  he  attain  the  end  and  the  glory  of  free- 
agency.  This  system,  therefore,  which  insists  only  upon 
the  exterior  benevolence  of  God,  and  holds  this  only  as 
a  perception,  or  as  the  agent  of  fitful  emotion,  and  which 
takes  but  feebly  into  the  account — if  at  all — His  right- 
eousness. His  justice.  His  inward  requirements,  I  term 
un-mora\,  and  merely  sentimental ;  and  affirm  that  it  does 
not  represent  the  fullness,  it  does  not  completely  define 
the  goodness  of  God.  It  does  not  over-rate  the  Love 
of  God — its  power,  extent,  endurance  ;  God  himself  is 
Love  ; — but  it  does  not  fully  show  how  that  Love  mani- 
fests itself,  what  is  its  end,  and  what  is  its  process.  By 
this  theory,  God's  name  is  acknowledged  but  not  halloiv- 
ed — He  is  worshiped  in  gladness  but  not  in  reverence. 

Thus,  when  we  pray — "  Hallowed  be  thy  name,"  we 
may  ask  that  God  would  manifest  himself  more  fully 
For  we  see  that  the  gravest  errors  issue  from  undue  con- 
ceptions'  of  Him;  error  itself  is  the  partial  perception 
rather  than  the  total  ignorance  of  truth.  In  breathing 
this  petition,  we  desii'e  that  God  would   reveal  Himself 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  39 

as  He  is,  and  thus  dispel  our  false  images  of  Him.  For 
too  much  we  fashion  God  after  our  own  hearts,  and  pro- 
ject an  idea  of  Him  from  among  the  lights  and  shadows 
of  our  own  souls.  In  saying — "  Hallowed  be  thy  name," 
we  pray  that  God  would  beam  out  in  the  blended  quali- 
ties of  His  nature.  So,  everywhere,  shall  the  altars  of 
superstition  crumble,  its  fearful  rites  cease,  its  mental 
clouds  disperse  in  that  great  light.  So,  everywhere,  shall 
a  superficial  morality  and  a  nerveless  sentimentalism,  be 
changed  to  a  strenuous  virtue  and  a  devout  life. 

n.  But  I  pass  to  the  second  division  of  my  discourse, 
and  remark  that,  with  these  same  words,  we  can  also 
pray  that  we,  that  all  men,  may  hallow  the  name  of  God. 
Nay,  '  my  friends,  virtually,  we  do  make  this  petition, 
or  else  we  use  the  words  in  mockery.  We  do  not 
really  desire  that  God's  name  may  be  hallowed,  un- 
less we  resolve  ourselves  to  reverence  it.  That  is 
no  prayer  which  does  not  join  conduct  to  aspiration. 
We  say — "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be 
thy  name,"  but  the  pointed  question  presses  home  upon 
us — do  we  hallow  it  ? — do  we  mean  to  hallow  it  ?  Or 
does  it  signify  nothing  with  us  ?  Is  it  merely  a  form  that 
we  learned  in  childhood  ?  A  familiar  petition,  that  we 
mutter  without  regard  to  what  it  implies  or  requires  ? 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  this  is  a  sincere  prayer  with  us, 
then  will  we  resolve  and  endeavor  to  consecrate  this 


40  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

great  Name  on  our  lips,  in  our  lives,  and  in  our  hearts. 
To  these  three  points  I  propose  to  devote  the  concluding 
portion  of  my  discourse. 

First,  then,  if  we  would  use  this  prayer  sincerely,  we 
must  hallow  God's  name  upon  our  lips.  It  will  never  be 
a  light  word  there.  It  will  never  drop  out  in  jest,  or  ring 
in  blasphemy.  I  wish  to  touch  this  point  earnestly.  I 
would  speak  strongly  against  the  common  sin  of  Profane- 
ness.  Are  there  any  before  me  who  are  accustomed  to 
use  God's  name  as  an  expletive,  and  to  bandy  it  as  a  by- 
word ?  Who  employ  it  in  all  kinds  of  conversation,  and 
throw  it  about  in  every  place  ?  Perhaps,  in  their  hearts, 
they  consider  this  habit  as  an  accomplishment !  think  it 
manly  and  brave  to  swear  !  Let  me  say,  then,  that  pro- 
faneness  is  a  brutal  vice.  He  who  indulges  it  is  no 
gentleman.  I  care  not  what  his  stamp  may  be  in  society. 
I  care  not  what  clothes  he  wears,  or  what  culture  he 
boasts.  Despite  all  his  refinement,  the  light  and  habitual 
taking  of  God's  name,  betrays  a  coarse  nature,  and  a 
brutal  will.  Nay,  he  tacitly  admits  that  it  is  ungentle- 
manly.  He  restrains  his  oaths  in  the  presence  of  ladies; 
and  he  who  fears  not  to  rush  into  the  chancery  of  heaven 
and  swear  by  the  Majesty  there,  is  decently  observant 
in  the  drawing-room  and  the  parlor.  But,  again,  Pro- 
faneness  is  an  unmanly  and  silly  vice.  It  certainly  is 
not  a  grace  in  conversation,  and  it  adds  no  strength  to 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME,  41 

it.  There  is  no  organic  symmetry  in  the  narrative  that 
is  ingrained  with  oaths ;  .and  the  blasphemy  that  bol- 
sters an  opinion  does  not  make  it  any  more  correct.  Our 
mother-English  has  variety  enough  to  make  a  story 
sparkle,  and  to  give  point  to  wit ;  it  has  toughness  and 
vehemence  enough  to  furnish  the  sinews  for  a  debate  and 
to  drive  home  a  conviction  ;  without  degrading  the  holy 
epithets  of  Jehovah.  Nay,  the  use  of  these  expletives, 
argues  a  limited  range  of  ideas,  and  a  consciousness  of 
being  on  the  wrong  side.  And  if  we  can  find  no  other 
phrases  through  which  to  vent  our  choking  passion,  we 
had  better  repress  that  passion.  And,  again,  Profane- 
ness  is  a  mean  vice.  It  indicates  the  grossest  in- 
gratitude. According  to  general  estimation,  he  who  re- 
pays kindness  with  contumely,  he  who  abuses  his  friend 
and  benefactor,  is  deemed  pitiful  and  wretched.  And  yet, 
oh  profane  man  !  whose  name  is  it  you  handle  so  lightly? 
It  is  that  of  your  best  Benefactor  !  You,  whose  blood 
would  boil  to  hear  the  venerable  names  of  your  earthly 
parents  hurled  about  in  scoffs  and  jests,  abuse,  without 
compunction  and  without  thought,  the  name  of  your 
heavenly  Father !  Finally,  Profaneness  is  an  awful  vice. 
Once  more  I  ask.  Whose  name  is  it  you  so  lightly  use  ? 
That  name  of  God  ! — have  you  ever  pondered  its  mean- 
ing ?  Have  you  ever  thought  wliat  it  is  that  you  mingle 
thus  with  your  passion  and  your  wit  ?     It  is  the  name  oi 


42  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

Him  whom  the  angels  worship,  and  Whom  the  heaven 
of  heavens  cannot  contain ! 

Surely,  then,  we  cannot  sincerely  breathe  the  petition 
of  the  text,  if  we  do  not  consecrate  God's  name  upon 
our  lips.  That  Prayer  cannot  consistently  accompany 
Profaneness,  The  one  will  never  escape  the  doors  of 
the  mouth,  if  we  utter  the  other  from  the  heart.  Profane 
man,  though  habit  be  ever  so  stringent  with  you,  when 
the  word  of  mockery  and  of  blasphemy  is  about  to  leap 
from  your  lips,  think  of  the  considerations  just  suggested 
— think  of  God — and,  instead  of  that  rude  oath,  cry  out 
in  reverent  prayer  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name !" 

But,  in  the  second  place,  I  would  say  that,  in  order  to 
utter  this  Prayer  sincerely,  we  must  hallow  God's  name 
in  our  lives — in  our  habitual  conduct.  Many  a  man 
whose  lips  are  clean  from  oaths,  and  who  never  uses 
God's  name  lightly,  may  live  without  any  reference  to 
His  claims.  Every  man  does  live  so  who  has  some  ob- 
ject that  is,  practically,  higher  than  God,  and  that  stands 
in  the  place  of  God.  How  common  is  the  sin  of  Idol- 
atry !  Not  the  worship  of  graven  images,  but  a  pursuit 
of  aims  and  an  application  of  means  showing  that  men 
render  supreme  homage  to  something  else  than  the  true 
Deity — ^that  His  is  not  the  name  they  habitually .  honor 
and  hallow.  It  is  not  that  they  have  some  great  tempo- 
ral object  in  view  which  they  seek  with  strenuous  effort, 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  43 

but  that  to  this  purpose  they  warp  all  moral  considera- 
tions, and  sacrifice  all  religious  claims.  Where  God,  by 
the  voice  of  conscience,  or  by  the  written  word,  indi- 
cates one  path,  they  for  the  sake  of  their  darling  object 
turn  into  another.  While  He  claims  their  affections 
they  surrender  them  to  this  temporal  end,  and  He  is 
neglected.  This,  let  it  appear  in  what  form  it  will,  is 
idolatry.  The  man  who  is  bent  on  the  gratification  of 
his  appetites,  whose  eyes  turn  restlessly  in  quest  of  de- 
light and  whose  pulses  bound  with  continual  desire,  is  an 
idolator.  He  worships  sensual  good — the  flower-crowned 
and  voluptuous  image  of  pleasure,  whose  ritual  is  the 
tinkling  cymbal  and  the  circling  wine-cup.  The  moni- 
tions of  duty  and  the  voice  that  calls  him  to  higher  aims, 
are  unheeded.  His  energies  and  his  time  are  exhausted 
for  this  one  end.  The  man  whose  main  object  is  popu- 
lar fame  and  popular  power,  is  prone  to  idolatry.  His 
standard  of  action  is  the  whim  of  the  multitude,  his  prin- 
ciples are  plastic  to  their  prejudices.  Or  if  he  controls 
them,  and  plays  with  cunning  upon  their  passions,  his 
moral  code  is  always  level  to  policy,  and  works  in  the 
traces  of  an  unsanctified  ambition.  He  may  endeavor 
to  cheat  conscience,  and  to  call  his  obliquities  by  a  good 
name,  but  evidently,  he  worships  reputation  and  success 
more  than  he  worships  God.  The  absorbed  wealth-seeker 
is  an  idolator.     His  god  is  gold.     No  fasts  are  too  pain- 


44  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

ful,  no  vigils  too  late,  no  pilgrimages  too  remote  to  secm*e 
its  favor.  He  endm'es  willingly  and  eagerly  torrid  heat 
and  polar  cold,  the  festering  miasma  of  one  climate  and 
the  deadly  chill  of  another,  the  dangers  of  the  wilderness 
and  the  ocean.  Would  he  do  as  much  as  this  for  the 
highest  calls  of  duty  ?  Would  he  serve  the  true  God, 
with  as  much  energy  and  patience  ?  These  illustrations, 
which  might  be  greatly  multiplied,  are  sufficient  to  show 
us  the  necessity  of  hallowing  God's  name  in  daily  life, 
in  every  pursuit  and  in  every  aim. 

Finally  ;  we  must  hallow  God's  name  in  our  hearts. 
We  must  cherish  reverent  thoughts  of  Him  in  the  in- 
most recesses  of  our  souls.  We  must  feel  His  Presence 
about  us,  and  within  us.  We  must  think  and  act  in  the 
awe  of  that  Presence.  It  must  be  the  greatest  of  all 
Realities  to  us.  Without  this  there  can  be  no  true  hal- 
lowing of  His  name.  Without  this  we  cannot  conse- 
crate it  in  our  lives,  or  respect  it  with  our  lips.  Without 
this  we  shall  possess  no  spring  of  moral  life,  no  consis- 
tency of  moral  action,  no  lofty  and  sacred  aim. 

We  need  at  the  present  day,  more  than  anything  else, 
a  sense  of  God.  On  the  whole,  ours  is  an  irreverent 
age.  There  is  a  thirst  for  innovation,  an  impatience  of 
authority,  a  contempt  for  the  old  and  the  past,  that  leaps 
far  beyond  the  medium-line  of  truth,  and  over-steps  the 
limits  of  honesty  as  well  as  of  modesty.     In  the  crash  of 


HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME.  45 

revolutions  and  the  decisions  of  criticism,  in  the  zeal  for 
reform  and  the  desire  for  progress,  let  us  not  forget  that 
there  are  some  things  always  venerable.  The  sentiment 
of  reverence  is  one  of  the  noblest  in  human  nature,  and 
the  heart  that  is  empty  of  it,  is  empty  of  all  that  ensures 
the  permanence  of  any  morality.  And  especially,  I  say, 
nust  the  sense  of  God  be  alive  and  constant  in  our  souls. 
Without  it  we  lose  the  sanctions  and  the  ends  of  life. 
Without  it  we  do  not  truly  live.  It  is  this  that  is  lack- 
ing in  the  hearts  of  those  to  whose  idolatry  I  have  just 
alluded.  Theirs  is  not  merely  misdirected  activity,  but 
a  partial  activity — an  activity  that  leaves  the  deepest 
channel  of  humanity  dry.  They  do  not  live  in  a  sense 
of  God,  and,  therefore,  spiritually,  they  do  not  live  at  all. 
Certainly,  there  are  many  like  these  whom  the  Bible 
pronounces  not  alive — not  alive  to  their  highest  inter- 
ests, not  living  their  best  life.  In  this  way  a  community 
wrapped  up  in  secularity  and  sin,  with  all  its  gay  variety 
and  all  its  bustle,  regarded  by  a  vision  of  spiritual  dis- 
cernment, seems  dead  and  desolate.  Yes,  those  diligent 
forms  appear  as  lifeless  as  the  embalmed  nations  who 
people  the  catacombs  of  Thebes,  and  the  appeals  of  re- 
ligion, the  incentives  to  higher  life,  the  moving  Presence 
of  God,  is  as  unfelt  amid  this  waste  of  worldliness,  as 
the  wind  that  sighs  over  the  unconscious  sands  of  the 
desert. 


46  HALLOWED    BE    THY    NAME. 

The  great  answer,  then,  that  we  require  to  this  petition, 
is  that  God's  name  may  be  hallowed,  that  His  Presence 
may  be  realized,  in  our  hearts.  With  this  consciousness, 
therefore,  let  us  utter  it.  With  the  thought  of  Him  as 
the  Infinite  whose  scope  comprehends  the  universe,  and 
who  dwells  in  the  humblest  soul ;  with  the  thought  of 
Him  as  the  Good,  whose  bounties  are  poured  continually 
around  us  ;  with  the  thought  of  Him  as  the  Holy,  whom 
seraphs  perpetually  adore  ;  let  us  pray  "  Hallowed  be 
thy  name  !"  Oh  God  1  hallow  it.  Let  us  see  thee  more 
clearly  in  our  joy  and  our  sorrow,  in  change  and  immu- 
tability, in  all  the  facts  of  the  inner  and  the  outer  uni- 
verse. And  in  all  our  agency,  in  all  the  action  of  the 
world,  in  its  busy  marts  and  its  secret  chambers,  in  its 
seasons  of  toil  and  its  seasons  of  devotion,  at  every  pe- 
riod and  in  every  place,  in  lip,  and  life,  and  heart,  grant 
that  we  may  hallow  it. 


DISCOURSE    III 


"  Thy  Kingdom  come." — Matthew  vi :  10. 
We  have  seen  that  the  first  two  sentences  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer  have  an  organic  connection.  The  same  relation 
exists  between  the  words  of  the  text  and  the  preceding 
clause.  When  God's  name  is  everywhere  hallowed, 
His  kingdom  will  have  come.  He  will  not  be  truly 
worshiped,  until  every  land  and  every  heart  shall  have 
rendered  Him  its  allegiance.  But  while  the  realization 
of  the  desire  expressed  in  the  text  is  necessary  to  the 
fulfillment  of  the  foregoing  petition,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  perception  of  God's  character  and  of  true  worship, 
is  essential  to  that  spiritual  fraternity  which  is  so  pro- 
found an  element,  and  to  that  human  brotherhood  which 
is  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the  consummation  called 
"  the  Kingdom  of  God."  There  is  no  bond  of  union  so 
vital  as  a  common  worship.  There  is  no  cause  of  sepa- 
ration so  effectual  as  different  ideas  of  Religion.  This 
is  sufficiently  illustrated  in  the  sectarian  affinities  and  an- 
tipathies immediately  about  us.    And,  in  looking  through 


48  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

the  world,  this  fact  becomes  more  apparent,  as  rehgious 
differences  and  resemblances  are  more  or  less  radical. 
Therefore,  I  repeat,  in  praying  for  the  Reign  of  Heaven, 
we  comprehend  the  universal  knowledge  and  universal 
worship  of  the  Father. 

Having  thus  considered  the  relative  nature  of  this  pe- 
tition, let  us  now  proceed  to  discuss  its  burden  and  its 
object.  In  endeavoring  to  do  this,  I  shall  distribute  my 
remarks  under  three  heads. 

I.  Let  us  observe  the  fact  that  this  consummate  blessmg 
is  to  co?ne.  However  correctly,  in  some  instances,  the 
phrase  "  Kingdom  of  God,"  or  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven," 
may  be  applied  to  the  setting  up  of  the  christian  dispensa  • 
tion,  or  to  the  blessedness  of  the  immortal  world,  no  doubt 
the  original  term  should  frequently  be  translated  "Reign" 
instead  of  "  Kingdom," — "  Reign  of  God,"  "  Reign  of 
Heaven."  It  indicates  a  principle,  rather  than  a  form  ; 
a  progressive  force,  and  not  a  fixed  dominion.  In  this 
sense  it  is  employed  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and,  therefore, 
the  text  should  be  rendered — "  thy  Reign  come."  But, 
however  we  render  the  term,  it  certainly  signifies  a  con- 
Bur-imation  not  yet  attained.  The  petition  "  thy  King- 
dom come !"  is  as  proper  now  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Jesus.  It  pertains  to  a  Result  that  sweeps  immeasurably 
*jeyond  the  limits  of  the  Jewish  polity — it  reaches  into 
•igos  far  remote  from  the  primitive  era  of  the  Gospel. 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  49 

And,  although  a  perfect  reaUzation  of  the  Ideal  compre- 
hended in  that  Kingdom  may  never  be  accomplished  in 
this  world,  even  for  this  world  it  suggests  a  better  con- 
dition than  any  that  has  yet  been  experienced. 

A  great  good  to  come,  then — a  better  era  for  the  in- 
dividual and  for  the  race — this  is  the  first  suo-^estion  of 
the  text.  The  vision  of  Christianity  is  prospective.  Un- 
like Paganism,  its  "  golden  age  "  is  in  the  future.  What- 
ever theory  we  may  entertain  concerning  primeval  time, 
with  whatever  innocence  it  may  have  been  peopled,  with 
whatever  glory  adorned,  it  is  not  for  us  to  sigh  over  its 
lost  loveliness,  or  to  cast  back  wistful  glances  upon  its 
glimmering  gates.  The  Gospel  requires  of  us  diligent 
hands,  prayerful  hearts,  and  a  forward  look.  It  urges 
self-sacrifice,  but  it  holds  out  a  glorious  expectancy.  Hu- 
manity is  in  neither  a  state  of  decay,  nor  of  stagnation. 
It  is  moving,  and  moving  for  the  better.  Continents  of 
time  and  mountains  of  difficulty  may  stretch  between  us 
and  that  glad  era,  but  a  serene  light  streams  down  from 
heaven  upon  the  destinies  of  the  race,  and  an  auroral 
promise  tints  the  horizon  of  the  future. 

But  I  refer  to  this  prospective  attitude  of  Christianity, 
because  it  thus  exhibits  two  characteristics  especially 
worthy  our  notice.  First,  it  is  in  accordance  with  the 
general  working  of  God.  Progress  is  the  law  of  uni- 
versal being.     Everything  that  can  be  considered  as  a 

5 


50  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

permanent  whole,  at  least,  is  constantly  developing.  In 
the  physical  world,  for  instance,  isolated  forms  of  matter 
may  have  their  cycles,  passing  through  periods  of  decline 
as  well  as  growth.  But  the  material  universe,  consider- 
ed as  a  whole,  appears  to  be  always  unfolding  higher 
conditions.  The  operation  of  this  law  is  manifest  in  the 
history  of  the  earth  and  in  the  movements  of  the  stars. 
The  conquests  of  progress  are  marked  in  hoary  strata, 
and  commemorated  by  medallions  set  in  solid  rock.  The 
firmament  over  our  heads,  suggests  an  uncompleted  pur- 
pose ;  and  that  its  sparkling  worlds  are  only  the  blossoms 
of  creation. 

I  need  not  say  that  progress  is  also  the  law  of  the 
human  soul.  Whatever  may  be  the  limitations  of  mind 
in  other  stages  of  being,  we  know  that  here  its  essential 
characteristic,  and,  indeed,  one  great  proof  of  its  im- 
mortality, is  an  ever-unfolding  power,  retained  amid  the 
decay  of  the  body,  and  plucked  from  the  withering  gar- 
niture of  age. 

With  this  general  law  of  progress,  I  repeat,  Christian- 
ity is  in  beautiful  accordance.  It  is  not  a  fixed  system. 
An  everlasting  Principle  in  itself,  it  has  no  unchangeable 
and  universal  forms.  With  infinite  depths  of  truth,  and 
an  incessant  spring  of  spiritual  life,  it  cannot  be  limited 
to  any  time,  or  petrified  in  any  shape.  It  is  fluent  and 
eternal.     The  reconciling  element  of  the  world,  it  goes 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  51 

forth  into  every  age,  and  responds  to  the  deepest  tone  of 
want  in  every  posture  of  humanity.  In  fact,  for  every 
new  epoch  it  is  a  new  Revelation.  It  ever  demands  a 
present  and  cannot  be  confined  to  a  past  interpretation. 
There  is  always  an  original  meaning — a  meaning  adapt- 
ed to  the  times — in  the  Miracles  and  the  Teachings,  the 
Cross  and  the  Sepulchre,  the  Personality  and  the  Life  of 
Jesus.  Not  that  the  Gospel  essentially  changes,  but  it 
adjusts  itself  to  the  vision  of  man,  or,  rather,  man  sees 
it  from  different  points  of  view ;  not  that  a  jot  of  its  fa- 
miliar truth  grows  stale,  but  each  filament  unfolds  new 
relations,  and  assumes  a  new  expression.  Now  Chris- 
tianity is  a  primitive  congregation,  and  now  a  magnificent 
hierarchy;  now  it  is  Catholic,  and  now  Protestant ;  now 
it  shelters  its  life  in  a  conservative  monasticism,  now  it 
bursts  upon  the  world  in  the  multiform  forces  of  modern 
civilization  ;  now,  as  a  lax  and  wilful  individualism  pre- 
vails, it  is  crowned  with  Divine  authority ;  now,  as 
mankind  are  hindered  and  crushed  by  a  centralizing  des- 
potism, it  opens  with  an  intense  humanity.  In  one  word. 
Christianity,  although  introduced  by  miracle,  has  fallen 
into  the  ordinary  current  of  Providence.  Not  by  exter- 
nal ruptures,  and  sudden  shocks,  but  with  an  inner  life, 
it  gradually  fills  every  pore  and  artery.  It  is  adjusted  to 
the  conditions  of  a  progressive  race.  And  yet,  this  ad- 
justment is  not  a  servile  compliance,  but  a  condescend- 


52  THY    KINGDOM    CO.ME, 

ing  and  uplifting  sympathy.  Mingling  thus  with  the 
conditions  of  one  age,  it  induces  the  better  estate  of  an- 
other, and  creates  those  yet  deeper  wants  which  it  alone 
can  satisfy.  It  exalts  humanity  by  accompanying  it, 
and,  ever  creating  higher  ideals,  it  always  appears  in  the 
van  as  the  only  help  and  interpretation.  It  not  only 
awaits  man  as  a  glorious  kingdom  to  come ;  it  goes  with 
him,  and  j9repare5  him  for  that  kingdom.  It  is  not  only 
the  object  of  his  best  hopes,  and  his  devout  desires,  but 
it  is  his  guide  through  the  tangled  journey  of  the  pre- 
sent. And,  while  thus  we  find  that  it  is  not  a  fixed  re- 
ligion, we  also  see  that  it  did  not  break  at  once  upon  the 
world  with  all  its  power  and  blessedness.  It  reserved 
its  consummation  for  a  happier  future,  which  mankind 
can  attain  only  by  prayer  and  toil.  And,  no  doubt,  al- 
though now,  and  ever  since  its  advent,  men  have  found 
in  it  inexpressible  riches  of  truth  and  love,  the  more 
exalted  natures  and  the  purer  vision  of  that  better  time, 
shall  detect  in  it  still  deeper  meanings,  and  know  that  it 
contains  an  excellence  which  we  can  hardly  conceive. 

The  other  characteristic  presented  by  Christianity  in 
this  prospective  attitude,  is  indicated  in  the  wise  benevo- 
lence of  such  a  position.  By  proclaiming  a  better  era, 
it  gives  to  individuals  and  to  the  race,  the  loftiest  inspi- 
ration of  hope.  And  how  essential  this  sentiment  is,  I 
need  not  say.     It  is  the  life  of  all  enterprise  and  all  im- 


THY    KINGDOM    COMB,  53 

provement.  Fix  man  in  one  posture,  or  shift  him  into  a 
retrograde  condition,  and  every  noble  faculty  would  be 
paralyzed.  What  is  true  here  of  the  individual,  is  true 
of  the  race.  It  is  possible  that  there  are  some  so  in- 
tensely selfish  that  human  good  in  general,  seems  of  no 
importance  to  them.  But  every  true  man  is  interested 
in  the  prospects  of  the  race  ;  in  the  condition  of  future 
generations.  Every  one,  to  some  degree,  looks  forward 
beyond  his  own  earthly  period,  and  does  something  that 
will  not  affect  himself  so  much  as  those  who  will  come 
after  him.  We  cannot  forget  our  interest  in  this  com- 
mon earth.  Though  in  a  few  years,  at  the  farthest,  its 
springing  life  will  be  nothing  to  us,  and  we  can  engage 
in  its  busy  schemes  no  more,  though  soon  it  shall  hide  us 
in  its  bosom  and  unknown  multitudes  will  trample  upon 
our  dust,  yet,  with  affectionate  curiosity,  we  ask  what 
shall  be  upon  this  planet  whose  sweet  light  we  have  en- 
joyed so  much  ;  with  an  irrepressible  sympathy  we  mix 
our  thoughts  and  feelings  with  those  of  unborn  ages.  1 
cannot  think  there  is  any  man  to  whom  the  certainty  of 
a  fixed  condition  for  the  human  race  no  better  than  the 
present  would  not  be  disheartening,  even  though  he  will 
soon  pass  out  from  it.  There  is  no  good  heart  that  would 
not  sink  with  despair  to  know  that  mankind  is  growing 
worse,  and  that  the  future  would  be  more  vile  than  the 
present,  even  though  that  future  were  thousands  of  years 


54  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

ahead.  Therefore  each  generation,  though  living  far 
from  its  consummation,  rejoices  to  beheve  that  there  is 
a  Kingdom  to  come — a  Kingdom  of  Holiness,  Truth, 
and  Love.  And  each  generation,  realizing  that  it  is  not 
contributing  to  a  circuitous,  or  short-lived  result,  puts 
forth  a  more  sacred  diligence,  and  builds  up  a  more  solid 
fabric.  The  best  things  that  men  have  done,  have  been 
those  acts  of  self-sacrifice  and  of  love,  which  refer,  chief- 
ly, to  the  future.  All  that  inspires  the  mission  of  teach- 
ers, and  the  attempts  of  reformers,  all  that  has  nerved  phil- 
anthropists to  toil  and  martyrs  to  die,  is  the  prospect  of 
a  good  argued  from  the  present,  but  lighting  up  the  sum- 
mits of  distant  ages.  And,  often,  when  the  vision  has 
been  too  intensely  confined  to  the  present ;  often,  when 
the  atmosphere  of  sensualism  wraps  itself  around  us ; 
when  the  pit  of  sin  yawns  open  and  exposes  all  its 
hideous  shapes  ;  when  Famine  staggers  unheeded  through 
fields  of  plenty,  and  Virtue  is  stricken  down  with  con- 
temptuous laughter,  when  Oppression  rears  his  impudent 
front,  and  Corruption  runs  through  the  streets,  the  pro- 
mise implied  in  this  petition — "Thy  Kingdom  come," 
murmuring  under  all  the  mass  of  evil,  steadies  the  waver- 
ing trust  and  nerves  the  drooping  arm. 

In  the  fact  that  this  Kingdom  is  to  come,  then,  we  see 
an  evidence  of  its  Divine  authenticity.  In  its  adjustment 
to  the  law  of  progress,  in  its  ministration  to  the  uplifting 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  55 

sentiment  of  hope,  we  have  an  answer  to  the  troubled 
faith,  or  the  skeptical  sneer,  which  asks — why  Christian- 
ity did  not  come  at  once  in  its  full  glory,  and  why,  even 
yet,  it  has  accomplished  so  little  of  its  work. 

II.  Let  us,  in  the  next  place,  consider  some  of  the 
indications  of  that  coming.  As  we  have  just  consider- 
ed the  gradual  nature  of  this  coming,  we  cannot  expect 
to  discover  a  great  advancement  within  any  narrow 
scope  of  time.  Our  decision  as  to  the  success  or  defeat 
of  any  great  cause,  will  depend  very  much  upon  our 
scale  of  measurement.  If  we  measure  by  years,  or  by 
generations  even,  it  may  appear  to  have  gained  nothing ; 
nay,  owing  to  the  limitation  of  our  vision,  it  may  seem 
to  retrograde,  instead  of  moving,  as  it  really  does,  stea- 
dily onward,  as  the  stars  seem  to  turn  backward  when 
we  forget  the  motion  of  the  earth,  and  mistake  it  for  a 
fixed  centre.  In  studying  the  fact  of  human  progress, 
as  affected  by  Christianity,  then,  we  must  employ  a 
standard  equal  to  the  magnitude  of  the  movement.  We 
must  not  consider  merely  the  access  or  recess  in  isolated 
instances.  We  must  examine  the  tide-water  marks  of 
centuries,  and  then  we  shall  find  that  the  great  deep,  as 
a  whole,  has  been  heaved  up  to  a  higher  level.  In  thirty, 
or  even  a  hundred  years,  Christianity  may  have  accom- 
plished comparatively  but  little — but  see  what  it  has 
done  in  eighteen-hundred  years  !     There  is  no  need  of 


56  TUY    KINGDOM    COME. 

detailed  illustrations  of  this  truth  ;  but  let  us  refresh  our 
consciousness  by  referring  to  two  or  three  general  in- 
stances. 

That  the  Kingdom  of  God  is  coming,  I  would  observe, 
in  the  first  place,  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  the  most 
civilized  communities  of  the  world  are  in  a  far  better 
condition  now,  than  the  same  class  of  communities  were 
before  the  advent  of  Jesus.  Whatever  seasons  of  cor- 
ruption may  have  intervened,  there  has  never  been,  since 
then,  any  absolute  decline  in  society.  The  pulse  of  im- 
provement has  beat  steadily  through  the  most  stagnant 
periods.  The  darkest  ages  were  lighted  by  a  liigher  in- 
telligence, and  animated  by  a  profounder  morality,  than 
Egypt,  or  Greece,  or  Rome,  in  their  best  estate.  Of 
course,  I  do  not  speak  now  of  the  sublime  and  chosen 
few,  but  I  contrast  the  masses  of  one  epoch  with  the 
masses  of  another.  And  I  would  bear  upon  this,  as  a 
main  point — that  the  general  operation  of  Christianity  is 
to  be  compared  with  the  general  operation  of  elements 
which  existed  before  it,  and  that  its  progressive  influence 
is  to  be  detected  in  general  results.  I  say,  then,  that  the 
moment  Christianity  struck  the  earth,  it  was  evident 
that  a  new  and  astonishing  force  was  in  the  world — a 
force  affecting  the  mass  of  humanity,  and  not  merely  a 
few  individuals,  a  sect,  or  a  nation.  Yes,  a  new  force  it 
was  that  burst  as  it  were   from  the  very  core  of  the 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  57 

world,  breaking  the  old  order  of  things  in  pieces,  dash- 
ing down  its  marble  superstitions,  injecting  a  distinct 
peculiarity  among  its  granitic  customs,  and  leaving  a 
chasm  between  ancient  and  modern  history.  That 
dividing-line  which  no  eye  can  miss,  is  the  threshold 
whence  the  Kingdom  of  God  began  its  march  through 
the  earth.  Since  then  it  has  been  evident  that  a  moral 
Power  is  among  men,  accomplishing  vast  and  blessed 
changes.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  specific  differ- 
ences between  Athens  and  Rome  for  instance,  they  bear 
a  common  resemblance  indicating  the  operation  of  com- 
mon ideas.  But  go  forward  as  many  years  from  the 
preaching  of  the  Apostles,  as  backward  previous  to  their 
mission,  and  see  what  a  revolution  had  been  wrought  in 
the  very  heart  of  society.  We  may  find,  perhaps,  a  less 
refined  literature,  less  graceful  manners,  and,  on  the 
whole,  a  ruder  civilization — but  a  far  healthier  one.  A 
civilization,  too,  containing  a  spring  of  progress,  the  en- 
ergy of  which  we  feel  to  day,  and  the  limit  of  which  we 
dare  not  prophecy.  We  shall  find  the  uncultivated 
masses,  bound  by  sanctions  which  the  great  men  of  Pa- 
ganism could  not  fix,  and  lifted  by  a  faith  which  they 
could  not  obtain.* 

And  see  what  ideas  have  come  down  to  us  since  the 


*See  this  argument  forcibly  illustrated  in  Volume  xiv  of  "  Small 
Books  on  Great  Subjects,"  entitled  "  The  state  of  man  before  the  pro- 
mulgation of  Christianity,"  p.  3-5. 


58  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

coming  of  Christ ;  ideas  whose  very  familiarity  con- 
stitutes the  argument  I  am  now  urging.  The  great  doc- 
trine of  human  brotherhood,  of  the  worth  of  a  man ; 
that  he  is  not  to  be  trod  upon  as  a  footstool,  or  dashed 
in  pieces  as  a  worthless  vessel ;  and  the  doctrines  that 
grow  out  of  this,  the  doctrines  of  popular  liberty, 
education  and  reform,  all  these  have  become  active 
and  every-day  truths  only  under  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Consider,  too,  those  ideas  of  religion  which  breathe 
around  us  in  the  atmosphere  of  every  Sabbath,  which 
consecrate  and  lift  up  the  humblest  congregation — the 
conceptions  of  God,  of  human  life,  of  immortality.  How 
changed  is  the  attitude  of  men  respecting  spiritual  things ! 
How  has  this  material  sphere  burst  into  infinite  relations, 
and  the  grave  lost  its  terror.  How  are  the  guilt  and 
privation  of  life  girdled  about  with  institutions  of  phil- 
anthropy, and  its  afflictions  spanned  by  the  midnight 
firmament  of  faith ! 

But,  contrast  the  general  moral  aspects  of  humanity 
before  and  since  the  advent  of  Christianity,  and,  more- 
over, select  the  most  unfavorable  point  for  modern  mo- 
vality.  It  is  a  perplexing  question  whether,  as  nations 
idvance  in  refinement,  they  do  not  inevitably  decline  in 
.heir  moral  life.  We  may  inquire,  therefore,  whether 
'  'hristianity  itself  has  a  conservative  influence  sufficient- 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  59 

ly  vigorous  to  prevent  its  communities  from  sliding  into 
the  worst  abominations  of  Pompeii,  or  Corinth.  In  one 
word,  let  us  take  the  problem  presented  by  great  cities 
— Paris,  London,  New- York,  and  we  shall  detect,  I 
think,  even  in  such  societies,  the  indications  of  a  moral 
life  far  better  than  the  best  results  of  ancient  civilization. 
Think  of  the  brutality  of  those  ancient  times.  Con- 
trast the  feelings  with  which  grave  senators  and  chaste 
women  thronged  the  bloody  amphitheatre,  with  the  dis- 
gust and  indignation  which  so  generally  follow  the  least 
imitation  of  such  spectacles,  at  the  present  day.  Well 
has  it  been  observed,  too,  that  "  Christianity  has  expur- 
gated the  literature  of  Greece  and  Rome."  While  now 
immorality  is  introduced  by  stealth  among  the  produc- 
tions of  the  pen,  and  these  are  productions  of  the  meanest 
sort,  how  unblushingly  did  the  best  minds  of  old,  not 
only  by  permission,  but  by  expectation,  blot  their  pages 
with  filth  and  vice.  If  such  things  are  done  now,  they 
are  not  done  openly  by  writers  like  Catullus  or  Juve- 
nal. Again,  consider  how  vice  now,  even  when  practi- 
sed, hides  itself,  is  protested  against,  is  repudiated  even 
by  the  hypocrite  who  indulges  it.  Certainly,  the  res- 
pected and  the  wise  condemn  it,  and  such  a  protest  is 
essential  to  both  their  wisdom  and  their  reputation.  No 
one  dares  approve  it,  like  Cato  in  the  street,  or  Cicero 
in  the  forum.     But,  above  all,  our  religion  confronts  such 


60  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

iniquity,  wars  against  it,  and  moves  us  to  overcome  it 
Can  we  say  this  of  tlie  religions  of  antiquity  ?  Can  we 
say  this  of  those  who  attended  a  Lupercahan  or  a  Bac- 
chic festival  ?  Even  when  corruption  in  modern  society 
is  deep,  and  seems  deepening,  the  true  conception 
remains.  There  is  a  moral  ideal,  a  popular  standard 
of  virtue,  that  rebukes  this  corruption,  and  that  furnishes 
a  recuperative  influence. 

These,  I  know,  are  familiar  instances,  but  I  repeat,  in 
the  very  fact  that  they  are  familiar  there  is  a  profound 
indication  of  the  progress  which  the  world  has  made 
under  the  influence  of  the  christian  religion.  Their  fa- 
miliarity may  sometimes  deaden  their  reality  to  us,  and 
it  i-s  well  when  some  local  evil,  some  temporary  declen- 
sion, induces  us  to  despond,  to  refresh  our  consciousness 
of  these  familiar  facts,  these  general  and  unmistakeable 
lineaments  of  improvement.  Thus  we  shall  cherish  with 
new  strength  our  faith  in  human  progress.  Amid  much 
evil,  mystery,  and  confusion,  we  shall  detect  the  calm 
working  of  God,  and  hear  the  steady  march  of  His 
Kingdom  in  the  earth,  beating  like  the  beating  of  the 
world's  heart,  full  of  prophecy  and  full  of  hope. 

III.  Let  us,  finally,  turn  to  consider  the  essential 
nature  of  this  Kingdom.  This  point  has  been  some- 
what anticipated.  I  have  said  that  the  word  "  King- 
dom," as  used  in  the  Loi'd's  Prayer,  should  be  transla- 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  61 

ted  "Reign,"  and  that  it  indicates  a  principle  rather 
than  a /orm,  a  spiritual  force  xoXhQic  Xhdm  ^  fixed  and 
local  dominion.  But  this  should  not  lead  us  into  the 
error  of  supposing  it  to  be  a  mere  abstraction,  a  diffused 
and  unorganized  influence,  a  mere  sentiment,  or  philoso- 
phy. The  Kmgdom  of  God  has  two  characteristics,  the 
one  external,  the  other  internal. 

Considered  externally,  it  is  an  Historical  Fact,  and 
it  has  an  organized  Form.  It  is  vitally  connected 
with  the  Life  and  PersonaHty  of  Jesus.  It  is  a  pro- 
gressive principle,  but  it  is  not  the  mere  "  principle  of 
progress,"  in  the  ordinary  use  of  that  phrase.  It  har- 
monizes with  that  law  of  developmeut  by  which  the 
flower  unfolds  and  the  tree  grows  :  it  coalesces  with  thai 
method  through  which  the  intellect  of  man  attains  ita 
excellence  ;  but  it  is  distinguished  from  these  ;  it  is  some- 
thing more  than  these.  It  is  not  what  we  usually  term 
a  natural  law.  It  springs  from  a  fixed  point,  it  starts 
from  a  known  era  in  the  world's  history,  it  streams  out 
from  the  central  Personage  of  the  Gospels.  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  there  were  no  preparations  for  it. 
There  were — in  the  world  at  large,  as  well  as  in  the 
Jewish  economy.  But  I  do  say  that  these  preparations 
owe  their  significance  to  Christ's  coming.  By  his  com- 
ing, we  learn  that  they  were  preparations.     I  do  say  that 

by  him  these  preliminary  elements  were  first  systemati- 
6 


62  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

zed  By  him  tliey  were  first  concentrated  and  became 
a  peculiar  force,  as  they  were  not  while  isolated.  At  his 
coming  they  were  drawn  to  a  focus,  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  world,  and  produced  an  effect  in  the  world,  as 
never  before.  As  a  special  law  of  progress,  then — as 
"  the  Kingdom  of  God," — this  spiritual  force  dates  as  an 
historical  fact ;  and  from  the  life  and  the  teachings  of 
Christ,  it  first  begins  to  leaven  the  earth  and  to  change 
its  complexion. 

Nor  should  we  have  built  up  these  great  results  of  the 
present,  by  our  own  unaided  effort,  and  in  the  natural 
course  of  things.  This  spiritual  force,  this  progressive 
element,  comes  to  us  as  a  help  from  God — as  a  special 
Revelation.  We  pray  to  the  Father,  saying — "  Thy 
Kingdom  come !"  Not  ours — not  a  deliverance  we 
can  achieve,  an  ideal  we  have  wrought.  A  "  Kingdom 
of  heaven."  Not  something  we  can  project  from  our 
unguided  intuitions,  or  pluck  from  the  suggestions  of 
science,  or  from  systems  of  philosophy.  Before  the  ad- 
vent of  Jesus,  something  was  needed  by  humanity,  and 
sought  for,  which  it  could  not  obtain  of  itself  It  is  this 
desire,  this  want,  that  sighs  wistfully  from  the  great  heart 
of  Heathenism.  It  is  this  that  heaves  up  in  broken  long- 
ings from  among  the  symbols  of  a  declining  worship.  It 
is  this  that  clouds  with  dissatisfaction  the  glory  of  the 
oracle,   and  strips  the  veil  from  the  beautiful  deceits  of 


THY     KINGDOM    COME.  G3 

mythology.  It  is  this  that  breathes  in  snatches  of  frag- 
mentary music,  wandering  as  if  in  search  of  the  full 
harmony.  It  was  because  of  this  that  Philosophy  strug- 
gled but  could  not  attain,  and  the  wisest  intellects  groped 
among  strange  splendors  and  awful  shadows.  It  was 
this  that  made  the  world  look  at  the  time  Christ  came, 
hke  a  world  in  eclipse,  an  exhausted  world,  a  world  of 
orphanage.  He  filled  a  great  want  which  until  then  was 
unsatisfied.  He  realized  an  Ideal,  which  until  then  was 
incomplete.  He  imparted  a  power  to  the  soul,  which 
until  then  it  did  not  possess.  Now  there  is  no  reason 
for  maintaining  that  the  experience  of  the  past  would 
not  be  the  experience  of  the  present,  if  Christianity  had 
not  appeared.  Until  its  advent  there  existed  this  want 
— at  its  advent  this  want  is  supplied,  and  new  life  and 
new  hope  inspire  mankind.  Whatever,  therefore,  might 
have  been  the  natural  progress  of  the  soul  by  this  time,  to 
that  Historical  era  I  point  as  indicating  the  period  of  a 
special  influence — a  time  to  which  men  once  looked  for- 
ward and  to  which  they  now  defer.  Judging  by  the 
past,  I  contend  that  without  that  Revelation  we  should 
not  stand  on  the  high  ground  we  now  occupy.  And,  if 
I  am  told  that  the  present  stage  of  human  progress  is  a 
natural  development,  I  say — not  so.  There  has  evidently 
been  a  wonderful  and  peculiar  crisis  in  the  history  of  the 
race.     If  intellect  and  aflfection,  if  intuition  and  senti- 


64  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

ment  could  have  achieved  this  profound,  moral  life  and 
this  firm,  transcendant  faith,  why  did  they  not  do  so  be- 
fore Christ  ?  Were  there  not  then  as  noble  hearts, 
and  as  colossal  intellects  as  now  ?  Did  not  these 
intuitions  work  as  curiously,  did  not  reason  seek  as  ar- 
dently for  truth  ?  Did  not  the  moral  nature  gravitate 
as  spontaneously  towards  an  ideal  virtue  ?  Did  not 
Love  mourn  as  tenderly  over  the  graves  of  the  dead  ? 
If,  then,  this  high  faith,  this  spiritual  life,  are  merely 
natural  developments,  why  not  known  before  ?  But  am 
I  referred  to  our  advantages,  that  did  not  surround  those 
ancient  minds  ?  Yet,  whence  the  spring  of  all  these  ad- 
vantages ?  Yes,  we  have  advantages  that  the  good  and 
the  wise  of  old  had  not — even  that  living  Word  that 
was  made  known  to  the  world,  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago.  Or,  once  more,  is  it  said  that  Christianity  itself, 
although  a  great  propelling  force,  is  a  natural  product  of 
circumstances — that  the  very  wants  and  desires  to  which 
T  have  alluded,  engendered  it  ?  With  more  reason 
should  we  say,  that  it  was  an  adaptation  to  those  wants 
— that  it  did  not  spring  from  them,  but  descended  to 
meet  them.  I  repeat,  then,  that,  while  I  do  not  deny  the 
kindly  helps  of  nature,  and  the  intrinsic  revelations  of 
the  human  soul,  Christianity  is  something  more  than 
these,  and  the  Kingdom  of  God  could  not  have  been 
built  up  without  its  peculiarity.     It  is  an  Historical  Re- 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  65 

ligion — an  organized  system  of  Truth — a  Personal  em- 
bodiment of  Righteousness,  which  Kings  and  Prophets 
desired  to  see,  but  did  not ;  which  we  see,  and  which 
gives  a  specific  definition  and  a  concrete  character  to 
the  Kingdom  of  heaven. 

But  this  Kingdom  is  also  internal,  and,  having  suffi- 
ciently guarded  against  misapprehension,  I  observe,  that 
chiefly,  essentially,  it  is  spiritual,  and  is  in  the  human  soul. 
Christ  emphatically  declared  that  "  it  comes  not  with 
observation."  The  Jew  was  waiting  for  some  outward 
display.  He  expected  a  material  revelation  of  this  king- 
dom. That  it  would  come  as  with  a  whirlwind,  break- 
ing the  cedars  of  Lebanon — that  it  would  advance  as 
with  the  tramp  of  armies,  shaking  Cesar  on  his  throne — 
that  it  would  descend  manifestly  from  heaven — that  it 
would  hover  in  mystic  glory  above  the  temple.  And 
yet,  even  while  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were  looking 
for  it,  lo !  it  had  come,  and  he  who  introduced  it  told 
them  it  was  among  them.  It  was  felt  rather  than  seen, 
and  yet  to  a  discerning  eye  it  was  manifest  in  the 
absorbed  attention  of  the  multitude,  and  the  new  powers 
of  the  disciples.  It  had  come  in  a  strange  energy, 
breathing  over  the  sea  of  Galilee  and  among  the  leaves 
of  Olivet.  He  did  not  strive  nor  cry,  and  yet  when  his 
cross  was  reared  its  throne  was  already  set  up;  when 
his  Apostles  went  forth  with  their  message  its  dominion 


66  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

had  commenced.  No  custom  had  yielded,  no  institution 
was  abolished,  yet  calmly  that  force  was  developing  itself 
which  should  change  the  world's  aspect,  and  regenerate 
the  world's  heart — before  which  idolatries  should  crum- 
ble and  empires  pass  away.  It  was  a  spiritual  power. 
Its  seat  was  in  the  human  heart — its  conquest  was  over 
the  human  soul. 

Yet,  even  now,  it  is  to  be  apprehended,  that  men  but 
crudely  understand  the  spiritual  nature  of  this  Kingdom 
— that  still  they  too  much  regard  it  as  outward  and 
future,  too  little  as  present  and  universal.  Let  me  say, 
then,  that  this  Kingdom  of  heaven  for  which  we  pray, 
is  neither  a  ceremonial  nor  a  territory,  it  is  not  mere  de- 
liverance from  social  wrongs  or  from  outward  evils,  it  is 
not  merely  the  blessedness  of  the  immortal  world,  or  the 
millenial  epoch.  It  is  all  these — it  comprehends  these  ; 
it  may  be  manifested  in  these  various  phases — but  prima- 
rily, essentially,  it  is  not  these.  It  is  simply  Holiness, 
Truth,  and  Love  ;  and  when  we  pray  "  Thy  Kingdom 
come !"  we  pray  that  it  may  descend  into,  regenerate, 
and  dwell  in  our  hearts  and  in  all  hearts.  It  is  not  meat 
and  drink,  but  "  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost."  I  would  that  we  might  realize  this  truth, 
for  it  would  prevent  many  errors  in  thought  and  conduct. 
It  would  teach  us  how  and  where  to  look  for  its  indica- 
tions.    It  would  impress  us  with  a  sense  of  our  indivi 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  67 

dual  agency  and  our  individual  responsibility,  in  regard 
to  this  Kingdom,  When  our  own  hearts  come  under 
the  control  of  Divine  affections,  and  are  moved  by  holy 
aspirations  ;  when  Divine  truth  is  clear  to  our  minds, 
and  we  are  obedient  to  its  dictates,  then  is  that  prayer 
answered  for  ourselves — then  for  us  has  that  Kingdom 
come. 

And  as  to  the  advancement  of  that  Kingdom  through 
the  world,  let  us  cherish  no  conceptions  which  are  cal- 
culated to  discourage  our  exertions,  or  to  induce  an  in- 
dolent fatalism.  Let  us  not  expect  that  it  will  come 
suddenly  and  irresistibly,  without  patience  and  labor. 
Let  us  not  dwell  too  much  upon  the  social  aspects  and 
the  material  splendors  of  this  Kingdom.  Nor  should 
we  obscure  the  true  idea  of  this  consummation  even 
with  the  glories  of  heaven.  It  is  true,  we  cannot  fix  a 
limit  to  the  whole  idea  which  is  involved  in  the  prayer 
of  the  text.  We  cannot  say  how  much  is  external,  and 
how  much  is  internal  in  that  desired  condition,  or  to 
what  degree  the  blessedness  of  heaven  mingles  with  the 
possibilities  of  earth.  But  again  I  say,  let  us  remember 
that  however,  or  wherever  that  consummation  may  ap- 
pear, it  is  essentially  a  state  of  the  soul — it  expresses  the 
bliss  and  excellence  of  holy  and  loving  spirits,  and  no 
material  figures  can  adequately  symbolize  it. 

And  now,  my  friends,  as  I  bring  these  remarks  to  a 


68  THY    KINGDOM    COME. 

close,  I  cannot  help  observing  the  peculiar  appropriate- 
ness of  our  theme  to  the  present  condition  of  the  world. 
It  is  a  time  of  universal  agitation,  and  of  momentous  in- 
terest. It  is  an  age  of  gigantic  materialism.  On  every 
hand,  science  is  penetrating  the  domain  of  matter,  and 
subduing  its  essence  to  the  human  will ;  while  the  lust 
of  gold  is  fed  by  the  discovery  of  treasure  richer  than 
the  dreams  of  fiction.  It  is  an  age,  too,  of  controversy 
and  experiment,  of  the  profoundest  questionings  and  the 
most  critical  issues.  The  genius  of  Reform,  whether  we 
call  it  by  a  good,  or  a  bad  name,  wrestles  with  establish- 
ed power,  the  spirit  of  innovation  stirs  the  most  sluggish 
veins,  and  the  torch  of  investigation  flares  in  the  face 
of  all  authority.  In  fine,  as  never  before,  it  seems  as 
if  the  great  conflict  between  good  and  evil,  the  trial 
whether  material  or  spiritual  interests  shall  predominate, 
were,  for  a  long  time  to  come  at  least,  to  be  decided. 
Who,  then,  can  be  indifferent  to  the  decision  ?  Who 
amid  this  upspringing  of  material  interests,  this  fall  of 
dynasties,  this  activity  of  intellectual  and  moral  forces, 
will  not  continually  utter  the  prayer  of  the  text?  If, 
then,  we  understand  its  meaning ;  if  we  are  honestly 
conscious  that  it  is  to  be  fulfilled  by  our  labor  as  well  as 
our  supplications  ;  if  we  would  realize  it  in  our  own 
souls  and  have  it  extend  to  the  souls  of  others ;  if  we 
trust  in  the   glorious  promise  which  it  implies ;  if  we 


THY    KINGDOM    COME.  69 

heartily  desire  that  great  consummation  ;  let  us  wrestle 
with  it  in  the  secrecy  of  the  closet,  let  us  lift  it  amid  the 
busy  and  contending  principles  of  the  world ;  let  us 
breathe  it  through  the  dead  formalities  of  religion — for 
never  was  it  needed  more ! 


DISCOURSE    IV. 


"  Thy  •will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." — Matthew  vi:  10. 

The  Christian  conception  of  man's  relation  to  God, 
involves  two  ideas — Dependence  and  Obedience.  We 
live,  move,  and  have  our  being,  in  an  all-comprehending 
Spirit,  apart  from  which  we  could  no  more  exist  than 
drops  separated  from  the  fountain.  He  who  controls 
the  mechanism  of  nature,  touches  all  the  springs  of  our 
life.  His  constant  force  sustains  us,  and  His  irresistible 
ordinances  engird  us.  We  are  the  creatures  of  Infinite 
Power  and  the  pensioners  of  exhaustless  Goodness. 
Thus,  human  nature,  considered  by  itself,  appears  in- 
competent. It  instinctively  leans  upon  something  higher. 
And  in  the  consciousness  of  dependence,  thus  manifest, 
in  the  soul,  philosophers  detect  a  universal  intuition  of 
the  Deity. 

Yet,  with  this  consciousness,  mingles  another — that  of 
spiritual  affinity  to  the  Creator.  We  know  that  we  are 
not  merely  His  creatures,  but  His  offspring.  We  share 
his  nature.      And   the   glory   of   that   nature  is  moral 


72     TIIY   WILL  BE   DONE   IN    EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN. 

freedom — power  to  act  or  to  resist,  to  choose  or  to  re- 
ject. So,  although  as  finite  existences  we  hang  upon  the 
Infinite,  although  as  material  creatures  we  are  held  in 
an  irresistible  control,  as  spiritual  beings  we  have  a 
sphere  of  our  own,  a  realm  of  voluntary  action.  Into 
this  circle,  God  does  not  intrude  His  absolute  Power,  but 
His  intrinsic  Righteousness.  He  does  not  force  it,  but 
He  appeals  to  it.  He  does  not  bind  its  service  as  the 
Omnipotent  Maker,  but  demands  its  free  allegiance  as 
the  Moral  Governor.  And  if,  as  we  have  seen,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  human  soul  assumes  the  attitude  of  in- 
completeness and  reliance ;  on  this,  it  evinces  a  con- 
sciousness of  liberty,  a  conviction  of  power,  a  feeling  of 
obligation.  And  if,  moreover,  the  general  instinct  of 
dependence  proves  the  existence  of  a  God,  as  profound 
a  proof  appears  in  this  universal  moral  sense — this  idea 
of  obedience.  And  these  ideas,  I  repeat,  Christianity 
blends.  If  we  are  truly  imbued  with  its  spirit,  we  can- 
not separate  them.  They  form  one  conception ;  and 
the  sentiment  vv^ith  which  we  regard  the  Deity  is  at  once 
one  of  reverence  and  of  love,  of  prayer  and  homage, 
of  responsibility  and  resignation. 

I  speak  now  of  the  practical  conclusion  to  which 
Christianity  brings  us.  Back  of  this,  there  is  a  question 
of  immemorial  controversy — the  question  between  God's 
sovereignty  and  man's  agency.     But,  I  repeat,  the  prac- 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN    EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN.     73 

tical  conclusion  to  which  our  Rehgion  brings  us — the 
conclusion  upon  which  we  spontaneously  act,  and  from 
which  we  live  every  day — the  mood  of  mind,  in  short, 
with  which  we  breathe  the  prayer  of  the  text,  is  not 
prevented  by  this  question.  Whatever  logical  inconsis- 
tency may  be  detected  in  our  sentiments,  and  debated 
upon  at  other  times,  when  we  come  before  God,  we  com- 
bine the  ideas  of  dependence  and  obedience.  Feeling 
that  there  is  a  wide  sphere  in  which  He  acts  irresistibly, 
we  also  feel  that  there  is  a  wide  sphere  in  which  He  is 
not  served  ;  and  so,  with  a  mingled  desire,  we  pray — 
"Thy  Will  be  done!" 

And  yet,  though,  while  using  the  general  expressions 
of  the  prayer,  we  combine  these  sentiments,  there  are 
special  seasons  when  one  will  be  more  prominent  in  our 
souls  than  another,  and  may  even  for  a  time  glow  exclu- 
sively there ;  and  for  either  we  shall  find  the  language 
of  the  text  a  proper  vehicle.  We  may  utter  it  as  a 
sentiment  of  Resignation,  or  as  a  sentiment  of  Respon- 
sibility. A  consideration  of  these  two  conditions  will 
naturally  distribute  my  remarks  under  two  heads. 

I.  I  observe,  then,  that  there  are  circumstances  which 
peculiarly  quicken  our  sense  of  dependence.  When  we 
go  out  into  the  material  universe,  and  consider  its  mani- 
festations of  infinite  Power,  a  Power  which,  being  cen- 
tral and  diffusive,    ordains  both  variety  and  harmony, 


'J'4  THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 

projects  these  enormous  forces,  and  secures  this  beauti- 
ful order ;  when  we  consider  the  range  of  its  influence 
and  the  minuteness  of  its^  touch — how  subhmely  great 
masses  obey  its  dictates,  and  with  what  alacrity  each 
little  pipe  and  valve  fulfils  its  part,  and  yet,  while  tides 
change  and  planets  turn,  how  calmly  the  great  circle 
spins  its  diligent  task ;  and  then,  when  we  consider  thai 
our  being  also  hangs  upon  the  fiat  of  this  universal  Con- 
troller— that  the  Eye  w  hich  looks  through  all  this  com- 
plexity, numbers  the  hairs  of  our  head — that  the  Pre- 
sence which  shows  itself  in  this  great  accordance,  glan- 
ces upon  us  in  the  light  and  wraps  us  with  the  wind  ;  in 
such  a  mood  of  the  soul,  feeling  pecuharly  the  pressure 
of  the  Divine  Power,  and  yet  ardently  conscious,  also, 
that  it  is  a  Power  of  Order,  Beneficence,  and  Beauty, 
we  think  of  nothing  but  our  dependence  as  a  part  of  the 
stupendous  mechanism  ;  we  lean  back  upon  the  mighty 
whole  ;  we  utter  a  devout  ejaculation  in  harmony  with 
the  general  current  of  things  ;  we  pour,  as  it  were,  our 
glad  consent  in  among  these  fluent  necessities  of  nature, 
and  exclaim — "  Thy  Will  be  done  \" 

Again,  there  are  times  when  the^elements  around  us 
break  out  in  appalling  manifestations.  The  earthquake 
overturns  the  dwellings  of  men,  and  the  volcano  blasts 
their  vineyards.  The  ship  goes  down  at  sea,  and  the 
agonized  cry  of  hundreds  is  unheard  amid  the  roar  of 


THY  WILL  BE   DONE   IN   EARTH   AS   IT  IS  IN   HEAVEN.     75 

the  tempest  and  the  dash  of  the  billows.  The  Pestilence 
marches  across  the  earth  like  an  invisible  host,  beleagures 
nations  and  decimates  cities.  Famine  hamits  the  hearth- 
stone and  the  threshold,  and  broods  in  the  empty  corn- 
fields !  The  very  forces  whose  serene  order  inspires  us 
with  admiration,  and  whose  bountiful  provisions  supply 
our  wants,  thus  become  agents  of  ruin  and  dismay.  We 
are  overtaken  by  a  conviction  of  weakness.  Evidently, 
a  Hand  far  stronger  than  our  own,  is  unbinding  the  se- 
cret powers  or  checking  the  ordinary  currents  of  nature. 
We  can  neither  command  nor  escape  them.  Our  art  is 
baffled,  and  we  must  yield.  And  then,  if  our  faith  is 
firm  and  clear,  the  ejaculation  in  the  text  will  appro- 
priately leap  from  our  hearts. 

Or  some  more  private  affliction  has  smitten  us.  Some 
well-wrought  plan  has  been  disappointed.  Our  promise 
IS  killed,  our  hope  is  put  out.  We  find  that  we  have 
leaned  upon  a  reed,  and  it  has  broken  and  pierced  us. 
Sickness,  perhaps,  has  surprised  us  in  the  midst  of  many 
cares.  Or,  notwithstanding  all  our  diligence,  poverty 
has  come  upon  us  "  like  an  armed  man."  Or  our  ten- 
derest  affections  have  been  touched  and  torn.  We  have 
stood  by  some  new-made  grave.  We  have  consigned 
some  dear  form  to  the  dust.  We  have  returned  to  the 
house  of  mourning,  and  for  the  first  time  have  realized 
the  emptiness  and  the  desolation  of  our  home.     And 


'70     THY   WILL   BE   DONE   IN    EARTH   AS   IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 

again  we  are  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  utter  weakness — 
of  a  mysterious  Power  that  disposes  of  us  and  our  cir- 
cumstances— a  Power  that  we  cannot  hinder.  And,  if 
the  depth  of  our  grief  is  quahfied  by  genuine  submission, 
if  our  agony  is  wrung  from  a  filial  heart,  there  are  no 
words  so  fitted  for  us  as  the  words  now  before  us. 

Here,  then,  or  in  other  conditions  of  human  life  that 
might  be  suggested,  there  is  forced  upon  us  a  profound 
sense  of  dependence,  and  of  dependence  upon  God  alone. 
For  the  things  in  which  we  usually  trust,  and  upon  which 
we  confidingly  lean,  are  plucked  from  us.  Our  skill  is 
baffled,  our  power  is  as  a  straw,  and  those  in  whom  we 
had  garnered  our  affections,  and  who  seemed  to  us  a 
shelter  from  the  inclemency  of  the  world,  are  cut  down 
and  leave  us  alone.  Dependence,  I  repeat,  and  depend- 
ence upon  the  Infinite  only,  is  the  great  conviction  which 
oversweeps  us,  and  we  may  wellsay — what  else  can  we 
say  ?— "  Thy  Will  be  done  !" 

But,  I  remark  further,  if  v^^e  breathe  this  prayer  intel- 
ligently, we  do  not  contemplate  mere  Power ;  we  do  not 
separate  the  Omnipotence  of  God  from  the  rest  of  His 
Attributes.  We  consider  to  Whose  will  we  submit. 
Nor  must  we  confound  His  Will  with  His  Sovereignty. 
His  sovereignty  is  His  absolute  control.  His  will  is  the 
disposition  with  which  He  wields  that  control.  Power 
is  but  the  instrument,  Will  is  the  intention  which  wields 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN   EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN.    77 

the  instrument.  Power  is  not  a  moral  quality.  As  has 
been  shown  in  a  previous  discourse,  it  may  command 
our  awe  and  our  admiration,  but  of  itself  it  cannot  claim 
our  worship.  When  we  pray — "  Thy  Will  be  done," 
then,  we  must  have  reference  to  the  character  of  the 
Deity ;  to  His  Wisdom,  Justice,  and  Goodness,  as  well 
as  His  Power.  Otherwise,  the  ejaculation  is  slavish- 
ness  not  true  worship.  It  is  a  forced  acquiescence,  not 
a  devout  desire.  The  Christian  always  regards  the  moral 
significance  unfolded  in  every  display  of  God's  supre- 
macy, and  in  all  His  workings.  In  one  word,  he  recog- 
nizes God  in  all.  But  the  man  who  sees  only  the  power 
and  not  the  intention ;  wha  says  "  Thy  Will  be  done," 
because  he  must,  without  discrimination  as  to  whose 
will  it  is,  or  what  it  is,  hardly  feels,  in  any  sense,  the 
sentiment  of  the  text.  He  would  express  the  same  ac- 
quiescence if  there  were  no  God — if  he  were  chained  to 
the  wheel  of  destiny,  and  driven  by  the  blind  forces  of 
nature. 

In  close  connection  with  this  error,  and,  in  fact  a 
modification  of  the  same  principle,  is  that  fatalism 
which  translates  "  Thy  Will  be  done,"  into  an  excuse 
for  indolence  and  neglect.  Doubtless,  there  are  many 
who  assume  the  attitude  of  pious  resignation  without 
the  sentiment.  They  cast  upon  Providence  the  burden 
of  their  own  follies  and  sins.    The  sluggard  mourns  over 


78  THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 

his  barren  fields,  and  says — "  Thy  Will  be  done  !"  "  Thy 
Will  be  done !"  exclaims  the  improvident  man  entan- 
gled among  the  miseries  of  poverty.  And  he  w^ho  has 
carelessly  strained  the  laws  of  his  physical  being,  and 
lies  wasting  to  death,  utters  the  same  devout  language. 
But  let  us  understand  that  fatalism,  whether  it  assume 
the  form  of  torpid  acquiescence,  or  of  inconsiderate  re- 
liance, is  not  resignation.  It  is  right  to  recognize  an 
overruling  Providence,  but  it  is  a  Providence  that  works 
with  us,  not  for  us.  The  impatience  with  which  we 
beat  the  walls  of  difficulty  and  heave  against  misfortune, 
is  not  an  impious  discontent,  but  a  spring  of  noble  en- 
terprise, which  God  encourages,  for  which  He  has  open- 
ed a  wide  sphere  of  action,  and  by  which  alone  we  can 
achieve  success.  To  suppose  that  He  prevents  this 
effort,  is  to  suppose  that  He  infringes  His  own  ordinan- 
ces established  for  the  wisest  and  most  benevolent  ends. 
To  attribute  calamity  to  Him  without  making  this  effort, 
is  to  confound  faith  with  folly,and  religion  with  laziness. 
Only  by  the  diligent  exertion  of  our  own  will,  can  we 
realize  the  Will  of  God  mysteriously  working  with  us. 
Only  when  we  have  reached  the  boundary  of  our  ex- 
tremest  effort,  can  we  see  the  superior  purpose  which 
encircles  us.  Only  when  we  have  done  all  we  can,  and 
plainly  perceive  that  the  current  of  a  mightier,  a  wiser 
and  a  better  Will  sets  against  ours  and  sways  things  oth- 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN.  79 

erwise,  only  then  springs  up  within  us  a  vivid  conscious- 
nence  of  dependence,  only  then  breaks  from  our  lips  a 
sincere  prayer  of  resignation. 

We  see,  then,  that  under  a  consciousness  of  human 
weakness,  it  is  a  great  thing  to  say — "  Thy  Will  be  done!" 
To  say  it  not  in  sullen  acquiescence,  not  in  indolent  re- 
liance, not  in  formal  mockery.  To  say  it  when  our  best 
hopes  are  breaking,  when  the  dearest  objects  are  plucked 
away,  when  our  hearts  are  wrung  with  loss,  and  disap- 
pointment, and  suspense,  A  great  thing  to  say  it  pro- 
foundly, out  from  depths  of  our  nature  that  are  stirred 
with  wonder  and  with  agony.  To  say  it  with  the  full 
force  of  our  souls.  To  say  it  while  our  tears  are  falling 
in  the  light  of  religious  trust.  It  is  a  great  thing,  too,  to 
know  why  we  say  it,  and  what  we  mean  by  it ;  nay,  we 
cannot  truly  utter  it  without  we  do  know.  We  cannot 
rightly  say  it  without  an  intelligent  perception  of  God. 
Only  when  the  expressions  that  stand  before  it  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  are  known  by  us  not  as  an  accidental 
succession  of  sentences  in  a  formula  but  as  the  natural 
unfolding  of  a  spiritual  experience,  can  we  really  breathe 
the  sentiment  of  the  text.  Only  when  with  an  under- 
standing mind,  and  a  heartfelt  desire,  we  have  said — 
"  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name, 
thy  Kingdom  come  ;"  only  then  can  we  sincerely  say— 
"  Thy  Will  be  done." 


80  THY  WILL  BE  DONE  IN  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 

II.  But,  passing  to  the  second  division  of  my  dis- 
course, I  remark,  that  we  may  employ  the  words  of  the 
text  when  quickened  by  the  sense  of  Responsibility. 
The  prayer  is  not  merely  one  of  resigned  acquiescence,  but 
of  earnest  desire.  To  repeat  what  I  said  in  the  outset,  we 
utter  this  petition  feeling  that  not  only  is  there  a  wide 
sphere  in  which  God  acts  irresistibly,  but  also  there  is  a 
wide  sphere  in  which  He  is  not  served.  It  is  in  reference 
to  the  last,  that  I  speak  under  this  head.  Turning  from  the 
field  of  nature,  where  God's  control  is  so  apparent ;  turning 
from  those  resistless  mysteries  of  life  that  mingle  with  the 
experience  of  us  all  and  fill  us  with  a  vivid  conscious- 
ness of  dependence  ;  we  find  a  world  in  which  His  Will 
is  not  completely  done.  It  is  the  world  of  man's  moral 
nature,  and  of  his  moral  action.  I  do  not  intend  to  em- 
barass  myself  with  the  controversy  to  which  I  alluded 
in  the  commencement  of  this  discourse — the  question 
between  the  sovereignty  of  God  and  the  free -agency  of 
man.  Mere  logic  cannot  settle  the  dispute ;  for  it  de- 
monstrt.tes  one  side  just  as  much  as  the  other ;  or  at 
least,  in  the  controversy,  logic  is  met  by  an  authority 
equally  legitimate.  That  authority  is  our  own  moral 
sense.  We  are  conscious  of  a  will,  independent  and 
personal.  In  this  we  find  a  strong  demonstration  of  the 
existence  of  a  God.  For  the  experience  of  a  will  in  our- 
selves, renders  us  capable  of  detecting  the  indications  of 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE   IN   EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN.     81 

another  and  a  Divine  Will  in  the  works  of  the  universe. 
The  experience  of  the  independent  personality  of  our 
own  will,  enables  us  to  confirm  the  independent  person- 
ality of  God's  Will — that  He  is  not  one  with  his  crea- 
tion— that  we  are  separate  beings  from  Him.  The 
existence  of  His  sovereignty,  too,  of  His  infinite  will,  is 
proved  by  a  process  of  argument  that  legitimates  our 
own  sovereignty,  however  limited  that  sovereignty  may 
be — its  freedom  in  a  certain  sphere,  however  narrow 
that  sphere.  Knowing  that  He  is  a  mind  from  the  fact 
that  we  are  minds, — we  also  know  that  a  distinguishing 
characteristic  of  mind  is  moral  freedom,  power  of  choice 
and  action,  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong.  This  sepa- 
rates it  from  matter — this  separates  man  from  the  brute. 
If,  then,  we  have  the  essential  prerogatives  of  mind,  and 
if  we  are  separate  minds  from  the  Deity,  we  may  act 
counter  to  God's  Will. 

But  not  only  does  consciousness  suggest  that  we  may 
act  counter  to  God's  will,  it  assures  us  that  we  do  thus 
act.  No  man,  however  logically  he  may  have  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  he  sins  by  God's  adamantine  de- 
cree, that  he  is  fated  to  be  wicked,  fails  to  feel  rebuked 
when  he  does  sin.  Conscience  mutters  its  thunder 
against  the  wrong,  and  a  sense  of  retribution  opens  in 
his  soul.  But  why  the  indignant  remonstrance,  why  the 
foreboding  fear,  if  he  has  done  only  what  he  was  obliged 


82     TflY   WILL   BE  DONE   IN    EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN. 

to  do  ?  Say  what  he  will,  his  moral  nature,  as  authen- 
tic and  as  infallible  as  his  intellect,  assures  him  by  its 
rebuke  that  he  had  a  power  of  choice,  and  that  having 
freely  chosen  the  wrong  he  must  pay  the  penalty  of  his 
election. 

But,  not  protracting  discussion,  I  assume  from  the 
language  of  the  text,  that  God's  will  is  not  done,  offering 
the  views  which  I  have  just  given  as  an  interpretation 
of  that  language.  In  the  moral  world,  in  the  world  of 
man's  own  power  and  action,  however  we  may  explain 
it,  evidently  there  is  a  profound  sense  in  which  that  will 
is  not  obeyed.  I  have  spoken  of  the  occasional  outbi'eak 
of  material  elements — of  the  tempest,  the  pestilence,  and 
the  volcano.  But,  after  all,  from  whence  come  the  worst 
desolations  in  the  earth  ? — what  are  the  most  fearful 
wrecks  we  see  ?  Are  not  man's  passions  more  fierce 
than  the  elements  ?  Are  not  the  ruin  and  dismay  they 
cause,  more  dreadful  ?  Are  not  the  spectacles  which 
sicken  our  souls  the  most ;  which  most  trouble  the  faith 
of  the  Christian,  and  perplex  the  labors  of  the  philan- 
thropist ;  those  which  have  come  from  the  workings  of 
the  human  will,  and  out  from  the  doors  of  the  human 
heart  ? 

While,  in  bowing  to  the  irresistible  evils  of  our  lot, 
the  human  soul  frequently  illustrates  its  dignity,  in  yield- 
ing to  evils  that  it  might  resist,  and  that  spring  from  its 


THY   WILL  BE   DONE   IN   EARTH   AS   IT  IS  IN   HEAVEN.     83 

own  depths,  it  exposes  its  weakness  and  its  shame.  And 
while  from  the  desolations  of  the  material  universe — 
from  the  torn  mountain,  the  earthquake's  vi^rinkles,  the 
scars  of  the  tempest — come  rich  suggestions  of  sub- 
limity and  beauty,  how  striking,  often,  is  the  contrast 
between  the  aspects  of  nature  and  the  world  that  man 
makes !  Sunny  lands  overspread  with  indolence  and 
vice ;  fair  cities,  whose  splendors  are  tarnished  by 
steams  of  corruption ;  while  the  morning  and  the  night 
look  down  upon  crimes  that  mock  their  loveliness  and 
insult  their  purity.  See  how  another  force,  different 
from  and  counter  to  that  power  upon  which  we  all  de- 
pend, prevails  in  the  earth !  That  human  form,  so  skill- 
fully fashioned  but  now  marred  by  intemperance ;  the 
loathsome  flesh,  the  trembling  limbs,  the  silly  stare,  the 
unhinged  reason,  the  gibbering  speech,  the  imbruited 
man — this  is  not  the  work  of  nature,  this  is  no  irresisti- 
ble fatality ;  it  is  the  expression  of  a  human  will  that 
has  surrendered  to  appetite,  and  that  is  consumed  by  lust. 
Enter  some  haunt  of  infamy,  and  looking  with  pure  and ' 
sad  eyes  below  all  the  tawdry  glitter,  the  sensual  show, 
ponder  the  wreck  and  desolation  there !  Humanity, 
garnished  with  its  own  shame,  and  laughing  at  its  own 
^sacrifice !  Jaded  beauty  bronzed  too  hard  to  blush  ;  art 
lending  the  blushes  that  abused  nature  will  not  give ! 
The  crown  of  womanhood  cast  down,   and  the  wealth 


84  THY  WILL  BE  DONR  IN  EARTH  AS  IT  IS  IN  HEAVEN. 

of  her  affections  transmuted  to  iniquity  and  deceit.  And 
yet,  beneath  those  frivolous  blandishments,  what  broken 
memories  of  good  still  linger,  what  a  dreary  sense  of 
loss,  what  utter  misery !  And,  if  we  could  uncoil  the 
windings  of  the  heart  that  first  projected  this  result ;  if 
we  could  read  the  soul  of  the  tempter  who  betrayed  con- 
fiding love,  and  balanced  virtue  against  needed  gold,  or 
bread;  truly,  my  friends,  we  should  realize  that  there  is 
a  will  in  the  world,  working  fearfully,  which  is  not  God's 
Will! 

Or  if,  turning  from  forms  of  evil  which  open  upon  us 
in  saloons  and  cellars,  we  look  out  upon  wider  theatres 
of  human  action,  how  appalling  are  the  spectacles  that 
meet  us !  I  will  detain  you,  however,  for  illustration  with 
only  one,  and  this  I  cannot  forego.  It  is  so  familiar  and 
yet  so  striking ;  it  shows  so  forcibly  how  much  man's 
passions  have  marred  man's  condition,  and,  as  I  have 
said,  how  deep  is  the  contrast,  often,  between  the  work 
he  does,  and  the  universe  in  which  he  lives. 

Stand,  then,  in  imagination,  of  a  summer's  morning, 
upon  a  field  of  battle.  Earth  and  sky  melt  together  in 
light  and  harmony.  The  air  is  rich  with  fragrance,  and 
sweet  with  the  song  of  birds.  But,  suddenly,  breaks  in 
the  sound  of  fiercer  music,  and  the  measured  tramp  of 
thousands.  Eager  squadrons  shake  the  earth  with  thun- 
der, and  files  of  bristling  steel  kindle  in  the  sun.     And 


THY  WILL  BE   DONE   IN   EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN.     85 

opposed  to  each  other,  line  to  Hne,  face  to  face,  are  now 
arrayed  men  whom  God  has  made  in  the  same  Hkeness, 
and  whose  nature  He  has  touched  to  the  same  issues. 
The  same  heart  beats  in  all.  In  the  momentary  hush, 
like  a  swift  mist  sweep  before  them  images  of  home. 
Voices  of  children  prattle  in  their  ears,  Memories  of 
affection  stir  among  their  silent  prayers.  They  cherish 
the  same  sanctities,  too.  They  have  read  from  the  same 
Book.  It  is  to  them  the  same  charter  of  life  and  salva- 
tion. They  have  been  taught  to  observe  its  beautiful 
lessons  of  love.  Their  hearts  have  been  touched  alike 
with  the  meek  Example  of  Jesus.  But  a  moment 
— and  all  these  affinities  are  broken,  trampled  under  foot, 
swept  away  by  the  shock  and  the  shouting.  Confusion 
rends  the  air.  The  simmering  bomb  ploughs  up  the 
earth.  The  iron  hail  cuts  the  quivering  flesh.  The  steel 
bites  to  the  bone.  The  cannon-shot  crashes  through  ser- 
ried ranks.  And  under  a  cloud  of  smoke  that  hides  both 
earth  and  heaven,  the  desperate  struggle  goes  on.  The 
day  wanes,  and  the  strife  ceases.  On  the  one  side  there 
is  a  victory,  on  the  other  a  defeat.  The  triumphant  city 
is  lighted  with  jubilee,  the  streets  roll  out  their  tides  of 
acclamation,  and  the  organ  heaves  from  its  groaning 
breast  the  peal  of  thanksgiving.  But,  under  that  tumul- 
tuous joy,  there  are  bleeding  bosoms  and  inconsolable 

tears.     And,  whether  in  triumphant  or  defeated  lands,  a 

8 


8G     THY   WILL  BE  DrtNE   IN   EARTH   AS   IT  IS   IN   HEAVEN. 

shudder  of  orphanage  and  widowhood,  a  chill  of  wo  and 
death  runs  far  and  wide  through  the  world.  The  meek 
moon  breaks  the  dissipating  vail  of  the  conflict,  and  rolls 
its  calm  splendor  above  the  dead.  And  see  now  how 
much  wo  man  has  mingled  with  the  inevitable  evils  of 
the  universe !  See  now  the  fierceness  of  his  passion, 
the  folly  of  his  wickedness,  witnessed  by  the  torn  stand- 
ards, the  broken  wheels,  the  pools  of  clotted  blood,  the 
charred  earth,  the  festering  heaps  of  slain.  Nature  did 
not  make  these  horrors,  and,  when  those  fattening  bones 
shall  have  mouldered  in  the  soil,  she  will  spread  out  lux- 
uriant harvests,  to  hide  those  horrors  forever. 

No,  my  friends,  the  moral  world,  the  world  of  man's 
action,  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  Will  of  God.  The 
earth,  like  a  huge  whispering-gallery,  reverberates  with 
echoes  of  unnecessary  wo.  There  peal  the  sighs  of  un- 
relieved want,  the  protests  of  abused  confidence,  the 
prayer  that  bursts  from  the  middle-passage  of  the  slave- 
ship,  the  clank  of  chains  rising  from  fields  of  oppression. 
Reason  as  we  will,  there  is  that  within  us  that  shrinks 
from  attributing  this  to  the  desire  of  the  infinite  Father. 
At  least,  there  is  that  which  urges  us  with  a  strong  convic- 
tion of  need — with  a  strong  conviction  of  discord  and  evil 
— to  breathe  earnestly  the  prayer — "  Thy  Will  be  done !" 

This,  then,  I  conceive  to  be  another  mode  of  apply- 
ing the  words  of  the  text.     With  a  sense  of  responsibil- 


Tliy   WILL   BE   DONE    IN    RARTII    AH   IT    IP    IN    HEAVEN.     87 

ity  resting  in  man,  we  pray  that  the  moral  evils  in  the 
world  may  pass  away,  that  humanity  may  be  changed 
to  peace  and  holiness — may  become  one  with  God. 
Looking  out  upon  the  wide  earth,  with  the  glorious  pros- 
pect of  what  it  may  be  contrasted  with  what  it  is — of 
light  and  harmony,  of  righteousness  and  joy,  taking  the 
place  of  all  this  sin  and  wo,  we  lift  the  fervent  petition 
before  us. 

And  yet,  while  implicating  ourselves  with  all  this,  we 
likewise  refer  to  something  out  of  ourselves.  We  dis- 
tinctly recognize  a  Will  working  with  us.  We  feel  that  a 
Power  far  mightier  than  our  own,  mingles  with  the  issues 
of  the  moral  world.  I  would  not  present  the  arena  of 
human  action  in  too  gloomy  an  aspect.  I  would  not 
hide  the  horizon  of  pi^omise  that  glows  around  it.  If 
God  does  not  ordain  evil  He  resists  it,  and  in  the  con- 
flict the  good  is  stronger  than  the  bad.  Nor  would  I 
urge  any  doctrine  which  makes  the  moral  universe  a 
chaos  and  an  uncertainty.  Let  us  cherish  faith  in  an 
overruling  Providence  in  history,  and  in  individual  cir- 
cumstances. Those  men  who  have  accomplished  the 
most ;  who  have  left  their  mark  in  the  world,  and  given 
an  impuls".  to  future  ages,  have  always  cherished  this 
high  faith  m  a  sovereign  rule  and  an  appointed  destiny. 

But  I  do  urge  that  we  should  likewise  be  true  to  our 
own  cons'^  iousness  which  asserts   our  free-agency,  and 


88     THY   WILL  RE   DONE   IN   EARTH   AS  IT   IS  IN   HEAVEN. 

that  we  find  that  point  in  moral  action  where  the  indica- 
tions of  an  overruling  Providence  harmonize  with  the 
idea  of  human  responsibility.  And  especially  do  I  ask 
you  to  consider  the  individual  application  of  this  prayer. 
We  pray  that  God's  will  may  be  done.  But  do  we  do  it 
— do  you  and  I  strive  to  accomplish  it  ?  Let  us  not 
confine  our  attention  to  the  aspects  of  the  world  at  large. 
Let  each  look  into  his  own  heart.  How  is  that?  Is 
there  no  moral  dislocation — no  resistance  to  God's  will 
there  ?  Are  we  reconciled  to  Him  ?  If  not,  then  we 
shall,  of  all  things,  strive  and  pray,  seeking  for  His 
spiritual  help,  His  working  in  us,  until  our  will  becomes 
one  with  His.  This,  indeed,  is  the  most  intense,  the 
most  necessary  application  of  all.  Without  this,  what- 
ever else  we  may  profess  or  do,  our  prayer  is  insincere. 
I  have  now  shown  how  the  Prayer  of  the  text  is  ap- 
propriate for  either  of  the  conceptions  involved  in  our 
relations  to  God — appropriate  as  an  expression  of  de- 
pendence, and  as  a  desire  for  obedience.  But  while  I 
have  exhibited  the  accordance  of  the  petition  with  these 
two  facts  ;  or,  rather,  have  shown  that  these  two  facts 
are  harmonized  in  the  prayer  ;  let  me  remind  you,  in 
closing,  that  in  the  text  itself  we  have  an  interpretation 
of  its  meaning.  "Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven !  To  what  do  we  refer  here  by  the  term 
"Heaven?"     Do  we  mean  the  material  firmament,  the 


THY   WILL  BE  DONE    IN    EARTH   AS  IT   IS  IN   HEAVEN.     89 

Starry  canopy  above  our  heads  ?  The  reference  is 
appropriate  even  if  this  is  our  meaning.  For  how 
beautifully  is  God's  Will  done  by  those  revolving 
spheres,  those  bright  and  circling  systems  ?  A  com- 
mon influence  binds  them ;  and  how  diligent  their 
obedience,  how  peaceful  their  motions,  how  calmly 
the  eternal  law  shines  out  from  them  through  all 
the  changing  years !  And  do  we  pray  that  thus  we  and 
all  men,  may  move  in  harmony  each  with  each,  and  all 
with  God  ?  That  thus  we  may  obey,  and  feel  the  beat- 
ing of  his  influence,  the  current  of  His  consent  mingling 
eternally  with  ours  ?  So  may  it  be  then,  if  we  take 
this  material  order  merely  as  an  illustration.  But  if  we 
mean  more  than  this — if  we  would  see  not  only  an  illus- 
tration but  the  result  itself,  then,  when  we  say  "  as  in 
heaven,"  we  must  look  higher.  For,  surely,  we  are 
not  mere  masses  of  matter  ;  machines  moved  only  by  a 
foreign  touch,  and  propelled  upon  the  orbit  of  an  in- 
flexible destiny.  We  are  spirits,  we  are  moral,  we  are 
free  !  And  if  we  would  behold  the  ideal  result  of  this 
prayer,  then  we  must  look  into  the  spiritual  heaven,  the 
abode  of  angelic  hosts,  and  of  "the  just  made  perfect." 
"  Let  thy  will  be  done,  O  God  !"  we  should  say,  "  as  it 
is  there — in  the  heaven  of  spiritual  order  but  of  volun- 
tary obedience  ;  where  every  will  is  free,  yet  is  in  uni- 
son with  thine."     That  heaven  whose  glory  is  the  con- 


90    THY  WILL  BE   DONE   IN    EARTH   AS   IT   IS   IN   HEAVEN. 

sciousness  in  each  of  a  self-balanced  power  gravitating 
to  the  Infinite  Centre  of  all.  Where  the  bliss  of  each 
is  to  be  like  the  will  that  each  does.  Let  thy  will  be 
done,  O  God  !  harmoniously,  as  in  the  material,  freely, 
as  in  the  spiritual  heaven.  The  convulsed  and  groaning 
earth  sends  up  the  cry — our  erring,  guilty  hearts  send 
up  the  cry — "  Let  thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  done 
far  above  these  sins  and  sorrows,  in  the  realm  of  obe- 
dience and  joy,  of  perpetual  worship  and  perpetual  ac- 
tion, of  boundless  peace  and  boundless  love  !" 


DISCOURSE    V 


"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." — Matthew  vi:  11. 
Although,  as  has  been  shown,  individual  reference  is 
implied  in  preceding  sentences  of  this  Prayer,  the  text 
is  the  first  in  which  personal  supplication  is  actually 
expressed.  The  foregoing  petitions  are  more  largely 
qualified  by  the  sentiment  of  homage,  this  contains  more 
specially  the  sentiment  of  desire.  When  we  pray  that 
God's  Name  may  be  hallowed,  or  His  Kingdom  come, 
or  His  Will  be  done,  we  virtually  pray  that  we  may 
hallow  His  name,  that  His  kingdom  may  be  established 
in  our  souls  ;  that  His  will  may  be  accomplished  through 
the  harmonious  consent  of  our  natures  with  His.  Yet, 
these  may  be  uttered  as  ejaculations,  breathed  in  the 
posture  of  worship,  general  aspirations  kindled  by  a  con- 
templation of  God's  glory,  and  only  after  reflection, 
drawn  down  and  applied  to  our  personal  wants  and  du- 
ties. But  the  prayer  of  the  text,  is,  as  it  were,  forced 
out  by  the  pressure  of  immediate  necessities,  and  lifted 
as  a  stringent  desire.     In  the  consciousness  not  only  of 


92  GIVE    us    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

God's  Power  and  Excellence,  but  of  our  human  weak- 
ness and  solicitous  need,  we  cry — "  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread !" 

As  another  introductory  remark,  it  may  be  well  to  say 
that  the  main  points  involved  in  the  last  discourse  are 
again  brought  before  us  by  the  text,  although  here  they 
have  a  different  reference.  If,  then,  this  fact  should 
occasion  some  similarity  of  ideas,  I  trust  that  these  ideas 
may  be  more  vividly  impressed  upon  your  minds  by  va- 
riety of  illustration. 

With  these  preliminary  considerations,  let  us  now 
proceed  to  discuss  the  spirit  of  this  petition,  the  meaning 
which  we  should  attach  to  it,  the  way  in  which  we  can 
consistently  use  it.  In  other  words,  let  us  dwell  upon 
some  suggestions  which  spring  from  the  language  of  the 
text. 

I.  The  words  before  us,  show  that  earthly  interests 
and  animal  wants  have  an  appropriate  place  in  our 
prayers.  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that,  among 
religionists  of  almost  every  class,  there  is  a  tendency  to 
undervalue,  and  even  to  despise,  our  material  existence, 
and  the  facts  with  which  it  is  peculiarly  connected. 
There  is  a  habit  of  speaking  of  the  earth  in  which  we 
live,  and  the  body  through  which  we  act,  that,  as  a  mere 
expression  of  the  comparative  value  of  sensual  and 
spiritual   things,   is  not  justifiable.     Though  "spiritual 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  93 

interests  are  real  and  supreme,"  material  interests  are 
not  entirely  unworthy.  But,  while  there  are  some  in 
whom  the  opposite  tendency  breaks  out  with  a  mani- 
chean  hatred  of  the  flesh,  or  in  ascetic  mortifications, 
now  a  few  who  regard  these  extremes  as  superstitious, 
nay,  who  would  repudiate  the  very  tendency  to  which  I 
now  allude,  still  seem  to  fancy  that  it  is  peculiarly  reli- 
gious to  contemn  our  animal  nature,  to  paint  this  mortal 
scene  in  hues  of  gloom  and  vanity,  and  to  contemplate 
death  with  ardent  desire  and  with  rapturous  welcome. 
This  sentiment  unconsciously  influences  their  religious 
feelings,  and  colors  their  religious  views.  But  this  sen- 
timent, it  seems  to  me,  indicates  confused  spiritual  per- 
ceptions, and  positively  injures  spiritual  interests.  We 
not  only  give  an  undue  exaltation  to  the  appetites  when 
we  yield  them  a  blind  service,  but  when  we  concentrate 
upon  them  a  microscopic  surveillance.  It  is  a  grave 
idea  of  heaven  to  conceive  it  as  one  set  of  external  cir- 
cumstances, which  we  attain  by  escaping  from  another 
set  here  below.  It  is  a  crude  religiousness  which  seeks 
to  glorify  the  future  life  by  depreciating  this,  or  that  vil- 
lifies  the  body  in  order  to  exalt  the  soul.  It  is  a  great 
mistake  to  confound  exstatic  feelings,  and  super-mundane 
moods,  with  essential  righteousness.  And,  after  all,  the 
man  who  I'ealizes  the  supremacy  of  spiritual  things,  is 
he  who  perceives  the  value  of  material  things,  and  who. 


94  GIVE    us    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

by  a  comprehensive  vision  and  a  fresh  experience,  knows 
their  mutual  offices,  and  the  clear  line  of  demarcation 
between  the  two.  The  body  is  not  essentially  vile  :  it 
is  marred  by  our  passions,  and,  having  broken  down  the 
fences  of  the  soul,  we  yield  to  evil  suggestions  which 
steal  in  through  its  agency.  But  it  is  the  intricate  and 
beautiful  workmanship  of  God,  the  consummate  evidence 
of  His  skill,  and  the  instrument  of  countless  blessings. 
The  earth  though  often  called  "  a  den  of  wickedness," 
and  "a  vale  of  tears,"  is  not  wholly  so.  It  is  a  world 
which  the  Creator  has  adorned  with  loveliness  and  filled 
with  wonder.  If  we  will,  it  may  prove  to  us  a  porch  of 
knowledge,  a  temple  of  devotion,  and  a  noble  theatre  of 
duty.  Life  is  to  be  cherished  as  a  sacred  thing ;  health 
is  to  be  cared  for  as  a  precious  gift ;  in  short,  the  means 
of  temporal  welfare  are  to  be  sought  and  preserved  as 
a  religious  duty — for,  in  our  holiest  moods,  in  our  pray- 
ers, we  are  instructed  to  say — "  Give  us  this  day  our 
daily  bread." 

But,  while  it  may  be  necessary  to  say  thus  much 
against  an  unconscious  asceticism,  it  is,  undoubtedly, 
far  more  necessary  to  state  the  proposition  I  am  now 
discussing  in  its  application  to  a  tendency  exactly  the 
opposite  of  this — the  tendency  to  absorption  in  the 
earthly  life,  and  in  material  interests.  This  is  a  result 
far  more  widelv-extended  than  the  other,  and,  therefore. 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  95 

in  opposition  to  this,  I  repeat — that  earthly  interests  and 
animal  wants,  have  an  appropriate  place  in  this  prayer 
— an  appropriate  place  among  our  highest  and  most 
serious  thoughts.  Appropriate,  my  friends,  because  they 
hold  a  secondary  place.  The  text  is  the  only  petition 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  which  the  desire  for  temporal 
good  is  directly  expressed.  The  rest  is  for  the  coming 
of  God's  Kingdom,  and  the  doing  of  His  Will ;  for  for- 
giveness of  sin,  and  for  deliverance  from  temptation. 
And  this  small  space  allotted  to  earthly  aspirations  is 
appropriate,  because  thus  is  expressed  the  comparative 
value  of  material  and  spiritual  interests.  And  yet,  is 
this  the  practical  estimate  which  men  generally  set  upon 
the  two  ?  Is  it  this  that  is  expressed  in  the  diligence 
and  solicitude  of  this  busy  hive — the  world  ? 

But,  not  to  dwell  upon  the  daily  pursuits  and  the  or- 
dinary desires  of  the  many — how  is  it  even  with  their 
prayers  ?  Is  not  the  main  current  of  their  petitions  a 
desire  for  earthly  good  ?  Are  not  their  profoundest  re- 
grets stirred  by  material  losses  and  evils  ?  Are  not 
their  thanksgiving  chiefly  inspired  by  sensual  ease  and 
plenty  ?  This  thanksgiving,  this  regret,  this  petition,  is 
all  well  enough,  if  it  only  occupies  its  appropriate  place 
— if  its  intensity  is  duly  qualified.  But  if  spiritual 
needs,  losses,  blessings  are  forgotten,  or  faintly  mention- 
ed, surely  our  devotions  are  not  after  the  model  of  the 


96  GIVE    us    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

Lord's  Prayer.  And  surely,  my  friends,  we  thus  betray 
our  deepest  wishes  and  our  highest  ideals.  We  show 
how  sensual  is  our  notion  of  good,  and  our  view  of  life. 
And  how  many  are  there  here  to-night,  whose  wishes 
and  conceptions  are  thus  characterized  ? — who,  if  they 
should  wring  out  the  most  subtile  aspiration  of  their 
hearts,  if  they  should  embody  the  fondest  ideal  that 
brightens  over  them,  if  they  should  delineate  the  image 
that  hope  and  desire  paint  upon  their  future,  would  show 
us  a  representation  of  mere  earthly  good;  health,  ease, 
plenty,  friends,  fame,  pleasure ;  with  a  nebulous  ring  of 
moral  conception  encircling  all,  and  a  vague  notion  of 
heaven  sparkling  afar  off!  How  do  such  regards,  I  say, 
animate  the  profoundest  prayers  of  the  many  !  This 
should  not  be  so,  O  man  !  This  should  not  be  your  re- 
lative estimate  of  spiritual  and  material  things.  I  have 
shown  that  these  material  interests  have  their  value,  and 
their  office,  and  a  place  in  our  religion ;  but  let  them  not 
have  the  supreme  place,  because,  comparatively,  they 
are  brief  and  shallow,  while  spiritual  interests  are  deep 
and  permanent.  That  material  ideal,  even  if  realized, 
cannot  satisfy  you.  That  sensual  object,  even  if  at- 
tained, will  be  merely  touched  by  you,  and  then  must 
slip  from  you  forever.  "  The  fashion  of  this  world 
passeth  away,"  but,  quicker  even  than  that  vanishing, 
your  voice  among  its  multitudes  will  be  still,  your  foot- 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  97 

Steps  will  be  effaced  from  its  bosom,  and  its  vernal  green- 
ness w^ill  spring  from  your  very  ashes.  Ask  and  seek 
for  your  daily  bread,  then  ;  but  remember  that  it  is  "  the 
bread  that  perisheth,"  and  that  "  man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of 
the  mouth  of  God." 

II.  The  next  fact  which  I  would  dwell  upon  as  sug- 
gested by  the  text,  is  the  truth  of  our  intimate  depend- 
ence upon  God.  The  light  in  which  I  would  now 
urge  this  truth,  is  somewhat  different  from  the  illus- 
tration employed  in  the  last  discourse.  I  spoke  then  of 
the  sense  of  dependence  forced  upon  us  by  extraordinary 
revelations  in  nature,  and  by  peculiar  crises  in  life.  But 
is  it  not  too  generally  the  fact  that  this  consciousness  of 
dependence  is  awakened  only  by  unusual  circumstances  ? 
Is  it  not  too  much  the  case,  that  we  recognise  God  only 
in  the  whirlwind  and  the  flame  ?  What  I  wish  to  urge 
under  this  head,  then,  is  that  we  should  constantly  realize 
our  dependence  upon  the  Deity — that  we  should  habi- 
tually and  sincerely  acknowledge  Him  as  the  source  of 
all  our  good.  With  clear  faith  and  spontaneous  emo- 
tion, we  should  own  that  our  most  minute  and  ordinary 
blessings,  the  air,  the  sunshine,  our  daily  bread,  come 
from  Him.  No  truth  is  more  trite  than  this.  This, 
probably,  was  one  of  the  first  sentences  of  the  Lord's 

Prayer  that  we  were  able  to  comprehend.     Perhaps  the 

9 


98  GIVE    us    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

earliest  conception  of  God  that  dawned  upon  our  infant 
minds,  was  that  of  the  "  Great  Giver,"  who  bestows  our 
shelter,  our  raiment,  our  food ;  and,  impressed  by  this 
idea,  we  have  knelt  down,  and,  with  our  little,  child- 
ish voices,  prayed — "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 
But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  we  do  not  carry  this 
simple  faith  into  our  maturer  years.  Ask  almost  any 
man,  if  he  believes  in  the  existence  of  a  God,  and  he 
says — "  Yes,"  Ask  him  if  he  believes  that  God  is  the 
Creator  of  all  things,  and  nothing  will  he  more  readily 
affirm.  Ask  him  if  he  believes  that  He  is  the  great 
Benefactor,  and  gratefully  will  he  acknowledge  it.  And 
yet,  is  it  not  a  fact  that,  with  a  vast  number,  this  belief 
exists  merely  as  a  logical  conclusion,  a  traditional  creed, 
or  a  fitful  confession  of  the  heart,  and  that,  in  reality, 
they  are  py^actical  atheists  ?  Do  they  not,  virtually, 
consider  something  else  than  God  as  the  source  of  their 
blessings  ?  Is  He  not  lost  sight  of,  is  He  not  put  out  of 
view — as  the  Maker  who  has  left  the  machine,  as  the 
Creator  who  is  hidden  by  His  works  ?  Nay,  plenty 
itself,  the  most  profuse  evidence  of  God,  is  often  that 
which  most  shuts  us  in  from  Him.  In  the  blasted  har- 
vest and  the  unfruitful  year,  perhaps,  we  fall  upon  our 
knees,  and  think  of  His  agency  who  retains  the  shower 
and  veils  the  sun.  But  when  the  wheels  of  nature  roll 
on  their  accustomed  course,  when  our  fields  are  covered 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  99 

with  sheaves  and  our  garners  groan  with  abundance,  we 
may  Hft  a  transient  offering  of  gratitude  ;  yet,  in  the 
continuous  flow  of  prosperity,  are  we  not  apt  to  refer 
largely  to  our  own  enterprise,  and  bless  our  "  luck  ?" 
Do  we  not  virtually  do  this,  rather  than  realize  that  the 
Almighty  hand  has  touched  all  these  issues,  and  that 
vvithout  His  constant  action  there  would  be  nothing  ? 
In  other  words,  does  God  meet  us  in  all  these  results  ? 
Do  we  regard  them  as  fresh  creations  of  His  power  and 
goodness  ?  Do  we  entertain  a  vivid  sense  of  an  actual 
and  immediate  Providence  ?  I  repeat,  we  are  apt  to 
regard  merely  secondary  causes,  to  glorify  our  own  pow- 
er and  skill,  and,  in  the  customary  flow  of  success,  to 
feel  but  faintly  our  constant  dependence  upon  the  great 
Giver. 

Perhaps  science  nourishes  this  error.  Revealing  to 
us  the  constant  operation  of  material  laws,  it  begets  a 
tendency  to  deify  those  laws,  to  transmute  them  from 
theoretical  equivalents  into  absolute  realities,  to  conceive 
them  as  rigid  statutes  rather  than  flexible  expressions  of 
the  Infinite  will.  It  is  hard  for  Us  to  believe  that  God 
instantly  creates  ;  we  expect  the  production  gradually, 
through  some  process.  Yet,  what  is  that  process  but  a 
creation  at  each  point,  inspired  by  His  moving  spirit  and 
seized  by  His  intention  ?  Is  the  living  poiver  of  God 
absent  from  the  ascending  vapor  and  the  bursting  seed  ? 


100  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

Does  not  the  up-gathering  of  the  one,  the  unfolding  of 
the  other,  indicate  His  instant  presence  and  the  steady 
pressure  of  His  hand,  as  much  as  the  finished  flower, 
or  the  planet  ?  If,  then,  we  erect  these  natural  laws 
into  rigid  forms  that  intercept  God's  contact  with  His 
works,  if  we  consider  them  as  God,  practically,  we  are 
atheists.  And  we  are  perplexed  by  all  the  vagueness  and 
inconsistency  of  atheism;  for  we  do  not  account  for 
these  laws  themselves — we  do  not  define  them.  If  we 
did,  we  should  see  that  they  are  but  established  ways  of 
God's  working,  the  unseen  arteries  of  His  will ;  the 
fluent  methods  of  His  Beneficence  and  His  Power ; 
and  that  our  daily  bread,  every  grain  of  wheat,  what- 
ever its  secondary  dependencies  and  introductory  pro- 
cesses, is  direct  from  Him. 

And  yet,  there  is  a  repugnance  to  admit  the  doctrine 
of  an  instant  Providence,  not  only  from  a  false  reve- 
rence for  natural  laws,  but  because  such  a  notion,  as 
some  think,  seems  unworthy  of  the  Deity.  That  He 
should  create  a  universe,  that  He  should  control  the 
general  concerns  of  being,  appears  in  some  degree  fitted 
to  His  Majesty.  But  that  He  should  touch  with  His 
own  hand  our  daily  supplies,  and  dispose  the  essentials 
of  our  individual  lot,  seems  too  minute  for  Him.  I  can- 
not share  this  feeling.  If  my  admiration  is  kindled  by 
contemplating  the  scale  of  God's  operation,  the  vastness 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  101 

and  splendor  of  His  works,  surely  my  reverence  is  in- 
creased, my  love  is  heightened,  when  I  notice,  also,  the 
extent  to  which  that  creation  descends,  the  small  details 
which  it  involves,  the  delicacy  as  well  as  the  magnitude 
of  His  Government.  To  borrow  the  illustration  of 
Chalmers,  I  lift  the  telescope,  and  my  wonder  is  inflamed 
when  it  sweeps  the  glittering  fields  of  space,  and  multi- 
plies the  starry  legions  of  the  firmament.  But  when  I 
take  up  the  microscope,  and  discover  the  myriad-fold 
existence  that  is  hidden  from  the  naked  eye,  the  swarm- 
ing joy  that  populates  a  drop,  and  find  the  atom  endowed 
with  eyes  to  see,  and  nerves  to  feel,  and  surrounded  by 
its  universe  of  glory  too,  my  wonder  deepens  to  wor- 
ship, and  the  conception  of  an  infinite  God  more  clearly 
breaks  upon  me.  To  realize,  then,  that  He  whom  the 
angels  cannot  fully  know,  mingles  His  Presence  with 
our  common  walks,  and  hears  and  answers  the  widow's 
cry  for  bread,  seems  to  me  the  most  appropriate  faith 
for  a  truly  devout  soul. 

But,  whatever  may  be  the  hindrance  to  our  concep- 
tion of  an  ever-present  and  ever-acting  Deity,  and  to  a 
vivid  sense  of  our  continual  dependence  upon  Him,  it 
may  all  be  comprehended  in  this  one  word — custom. 
We  are  startled  into  a  belief  in  His  Providence  by  ex- 
traordinary events,  but  it  is  hidden  from  us  by  usual 
circumstances.     Our  keen  sense  of  Him  is  muffled  by 


102  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

familiarity.  In  the  flow  of  material  things  we  drift  away 
from  the  thought  of  Him.  The  obedient  operation  of 
our  own  faculties,  unhinges  our  faith  in  the  infinite 
Power.  The  intrusiveness  of  man's  works,  shuts  out 
the  evidence  of  God's  works.  The  pomp  of  scientific 
demonstration  cheats  us.  But,  if  we  would  abandon 
the  populous  city,  the  book  and  the  crucible,  the  imple- 
ments of  labor  and  the  garden  of  plenty,  and  go  out 
into  the  wilderness,  and,  in  child-like  renunciation  of 
our  theories,  contemplate  some  flower  that  blooms  there 
all  alone  ;  think  how  it  came,  what  ordained  it,  and  what 
secret  life  courses  its  tiny  veins ;  ask  how  it  sprung 
from  the  unconscious  sod  ;  think  of  the  mystery  that 
lies  at  its  root,  and  breathes  in  its  fragrant  life — 
we  may  waken  to  some  conception  of  the  mystery 
that  is  also  in  and  around  us — of  not  only  the  final 
but  the  immediate  dependence  of  all  things  upon  a 
higher  and  all-controlling  Power.  Nay,  if,  not  waiting 
for  sickness,  or  disappointment,  or  death,  in  the  silence 
of  meditation  we  will   consider  our  real  dependence; 

will  ask  how  and  by  what  we  live ;  who  holds  the  links 
of  our  being  and  fills  the  channel  of  our  blessings ; 
we  may  feel  these  sensual  scales  dropping  from  our 
eyes,  we  may  wake  from  this  dead  custom,  we  may 
be  converted  from  this  practical  atheism,  and  inspire 
with    a   meaning   we  have   never  realized    before,    the 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  103 

familiar  words  of  our   prayer — "Give    us    this  day  our 
daily  bread  !" 

III.  In  asking  for  our  daily  bread,  we  virtually  ask' 
for  ability  and  opportunity  to  obtain  it.  Nor  is  this 
inconsistent  w^ith  the  truth  upon  w^hich  I  have  just  been 
dwelling.  For,  of  course,  in  saying  that  we  are  depen- 
dent upon  God  for  our  daily  bread,  I  have  not  intended 
to  say  that  it  is  to  be  acquired  without  the  use  of  means. 
I  have  only  urged  the  fact  that  God  is  in  the  means. 
And,  therefore,  I  observe  now,  that,  in  this  prayer,  we 
ask  God  for  the  means,  for  those  faculties  and  agencies 
by  which  our  food,  and  all  temporal  necessaries  are  to  be 
secured.  No  sane  man  will  be  apt  to  run  into  the  ex- 
treme of  fatalism  in  regard  to  these  interests.  As  to 
his  spiritual  welfare,  he  may  sink  into  an  apathetic 
and  presumptuous  reliance  upon  the  work  of  the 
Deity,  and  may  make  no  effort  for  righteousness  because 
he  expects  all  the  movement  to  come  from  on  high. 
Nevertheless,  he  sees  clearly  that  food,  raiment,  animal 
comforts,  cannot  be  possessed  without  diligent  exertion. 

But  the  error  to  which  I  now  refer,  consists  in  the 
fact  that  we  do  not  go  beyond  the  means  ;  that  we  do 
not  sufficiently  consider  our  dependence  upon  God  for 
this  sirength  of  ours,  this  ability  and  wisdom  by  which 
we  accomplish  and  attain.  Of  course,  when  we  pray 
— "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  we  do  not  mean 


104  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

— "  Let  it  drop,  like  manna,  from  heaven — let  it  come  to 
us  by  some  new  process."  But,  devoutly  recognizing 
the  Providence  that  is  in  every  law  of  nature,  and  that 
really  gives  us  these  needed  blessings,  the  essential  mean- 
ing of  our  petition  is — "  Give  us  health,  and  skill,  and 
opportunity."  Devoutly  acknowledging  the  beneficence 
that  bursts  out  in  the  harvest,  do  we  sufficiently  recog- 
nize the  wonder  of  the  hand  that  sowed  the  seed,  and 
the  thought  that  planned  the  method?  Is  not  this  bodily 
organism  molded  as  it  is  with  such  symmetry,  woven 
with  such  manifold  textures,  strung  with  a  thousand 
chords,  a  more  essential  gift  than  any  material  work  it 
accomplishes?  Is  not  reason  a  more  exhaustless  capa- 
city than  the  hammer,  the  printing-press,  or  the  steam- 
engine  ?  Do  we  feel  our  dependence  upon  God  for  our 
daily  bread,  then,  and  not  for  the  life  that  animates  the 
industrious  arm,  and  for  the  thought  that  underlies  all 
human  achievement  ?  When  we  breathe  this  prayer,  it 
is  not  immediately  for  temporal  necessaries  that  we  ask, 
so  much  as  for  the  instruments  by  which  these  are  to  be 
acquired;  thankfully  owning  our  intimate  dependence 
for  these  upon  the  source  of  all  power  and  all  thought. 
And  this  leads  us  to  consider  the  blessed?iess  of  these 
means.  My  friends,  let  us  appreciate  the  ordinance  by 
which  it  is  necessary  to  use  the  means  before  we  can 
obtain  our  daily  bread,  or  any  temporal  good.    Consider- 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  105 

ing  the  benefit  of  strenuous  thought  and  diUgent  exer- 
tion, should  we  not  be  thankful  that  bread  does  not  come 
spontaneously  to  our  hands  ?  In  one  word,  is  not  Labor 
a  wise  and  glorious  ordinance  of  Providence,  an  ordi- 
nance to  be  remembered  in  our  prayers  and  our  thanks- 
givings ?  To  be  sure,  we  can  imagine  a  world  in  which 
there  is  no  work.  A  world  bathed  in  incessant  summer, 
whose  seed-times  and  harvests  are  ever  mingling,  whose 
springing  influences  perpetually  ascend,  whose  fruitage 
perpetually  ripens,  through  all  the  procession  of  its  golden 
year.  A  world  in  which  man  would  never  feel  the  sting 
of  want,  and  where  the  felicities  of  being  would  unfold 
without  his  effort.  But  we  cannot  conceive  any  such 
world,  connected  with  human  peculiarities  and  necessi- 
ties, one  half,  one  tithe  so  glorious  as  oifr  old  world  of 
struggle  and  of  labor.  For,  wherever  God  has  admit- 
ted man's  agency,  the  noblest  results,  the  achievements 
of  real  worth  and  splendor,  are  the  fruits  of  patient  and 
sinewy  toil.  They  have  come  from  the  suggestions 
of  want  and  the  problems  of  difficulty ;  they  have  been 
won  in  wrestling  with  the  elements  ;  they  have  been  torn 
from  the  womb  of  nature.  Labor,  with  its  coarse  rai- 
ment and  its  bare  right  arm,  has  gone  forth  in  the  earth 
achieving  the  truest  conquests,  and  rearing  the  most 
durable  monuments.  It  has  opened  the  domain  of  mat- 
ter, and  the  empire  of  mind.     The  wild  beast  has  fled 


t06  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY     BREAD. 

before  it,  and  the  wilderness  has  fallen  back.  The  rock 
at  its  touch  has  grown  plastic,  and  the  stream  obsequious. 
It  has  tilled  the  soil,  and  planted  cities.  Discovery  ac- 
companies it  with  its  compass  and  telescope.  Invention 
proclaims  it  with  its  Press,  and  heralds  it  through  the 
earth  with  its  flaming  chariot.  It  is  enriched  with  "  the 
wealth  of  nations."  It  is  crowned  with  the  trophies  of 
intellect.  Its  music  rises  in  the  shout  of  the  mariner, 
the  song  of  the  husbandman,  the  hum  of  multitudes.  It 
rings  in  the  din  of  hammers  and  the  roar  of  wheels.  Its 
triumphal  march  is  the  progress  of  civilization.  There 
are  lands  of  luxurious  climate  and  almost  spontaneous 
production ;  yet  who  looks  there  for  freedom  and  virtue, 
for  the  bravest  hearts  and  the  noblest  souls  ?  But  the 
elements  of  liberty,  the  glories  of  intelligence,  the  sanc- 
tities of  home,  and  the  institutions  of  religion,  abide  in 
sterner  soil  and  beneath  colder  skies — where  the  fisher- 
man feels  his  way  through  the  mist  that  wraps  the  iron 
sea-coast,  and  the  reaper  snatches  his  harvest  from  the 
skirts  of  winter.  And  who  would  not  pray — "Give 
us  the  manly  nerve,  the  strenuous  will,  and  the  busy 
thought,  rather  than  golden  placers  and  diamond  mines  ?" 
And,  instead  of  a  realm  sick  with  spontaneous  plenty 
and  desolate  with  riches,  who  would  not  prefer  the  gran- 
ite fields  that  grudge  their  latent  bounty,  since  they  in- 
duce not  only  the  exertions  but  the  blessings  of  toil  ? 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  107 

In  asking  for  our  daily  bread,  then,  let  us  consider 
that,  essentially,  we  ask  for  the  means  of_obtaining  it, 
and  let  us  remember  also  the  blessing  involved  in  the 
very  effort  for  acquisition. 

IV.  As  we  ask  God  for  our  daily  bread,  the  answer 
to  our  prayer  should  remind  us  not  only  of  our  depend- 
ence upon  Him,  but  of  the  relative  dependence  of  oth- 
ers upon  us.  My  friends ;  have  we,  after  all,  ever 
known  what  it  is  to  lack  bread  ?  Have  we  ever  lifted 
this  cry  in  the  bitterness  of  intense  hunger,  and  in  abso- 
lute want  ?  While  we  have  thus  prayed,  have  we  not 
always  been  surrounded  with  plenty,  and  a  plenty  which 
sometimes  induces  forgetfulness  of  God?  But  if  this 
usual  abundance  were  removed  from  us,  perhaps,  we 
should  discover  that  then,  for  the  first  time,  we  had  pray- 
ed, in  sincerity,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread." 
And  yet,  this  piercing  cry  does  go  up  from  wasted 
fields  and  famine-smitten  nations,  from  the  lanes  and 
cellars  of  cities,  from  homes  of  destitution  all  around  us. 
Nor  does  this  prayer  issue  merely  from  the  lips  of  those 
who  would  have  their  daily  bread  without  exertion,  with- 
out using  the  means.  A  more  sad  and  fearful  utterance  is 
the  cry — "  Give  us  work,  that  we  may  earn  and  eat  and 
live." 

Now  we  cannot  use  this  prayer  with  any  consistency, 
if  these  wants  are  unheeded  by  us,  or  if  we  merely 


108  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

touch  them  with  a  cold  and  stingy  charity.  The  call 
which  we  make  upon  our  heavenly  Father,  rebukes  the 
central  sin  of  selfislmess,  the  spring  of  all  other  sins. 
The  words — "  Give  us,"  forbid  all  narrow  interest,  all 
personal  limitation.  We  are  not  sincere  in  its  utterance, 
unless  our  sympathy  is  as  responsive  to  others,  as  we  would 
have  God's  help  to  us.  We  do  not  comprehend  the  obli- 
gations involved  in  our  constant  dependence  upon  God, 
unless  we  earnestly  consider  the  problems  of  society, 
and  act  upon  the  idea  of  human-brotherhood. 

V.  Finally,  for  a  practical  purpose,  I  direct  your 
attention  to  the  proper  translation  of  the  language  of 
the  text.  Its  precise  meaning  has  been  dijETerently  inter- 
preted, but  it  appears  that  the  most  respectable  authori- 
ties render  the  words  "  daily  bread," — "  Bread  for  sub- 
sistence,"* "  Give  us  bread  for  subsistence."  Using 
the  term  "  bread," — as  I  have  throughout  this  discourse 
— as  an  equivalent  for  all  temporal  provisions,  I  draw 
from  this  translation  of  these  words  the  inference  that 
we  should  be  careful  as  to  what  ends  we  apply  our  earth- 
ly blessings,  and  for  what  purposes  we  desire  them. 
"  Bread  for  subsistence,"  necessary  temporal  good  that 
is  ;  not  provisions  for  luxury,  ostentation,  or  pride.  Now, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  precise  limit  is  set  in  this 
case — that  no  end  is  to  be  sought  in  desiring  material 
*See  Maurice  on  the  Lord's  Prayer^  p.  69. 


GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD.  109 

good  except  a  bare  support.  Wealth  has  its  ministry. 
Elegance  and  refinement  have  their  ministries.  There 
would  be  no  reservoirs  of  public  bounty,  no  exhibitions 
of  nobl§  charity,  were  not  suber- abundant  means  accu- 
mulated by  some.  There  would  be  no  great  improve- 
ments, no  large  enterprises  without  this.  The  capital 
of  a  country  is  more  to  it  than  material  riches — than  so 
much  gold  and  silver.  It  is  the  spring  of  a  mighty  pow- 
er, it  may  minister  to  the  best  ends,  it  contains  incalcu- 
lable possibilities.  In  a  rich  country  we  find  the  finest 
culture,  the  most  ample  elements  of  civilization.  So,  a 
rich  man  may  not  only  gratify  his  own  tastes,  but  help 
and  improve  all  with  whom  he  connects  himself  In 
short,  I  would  not  deny  that  there  are  many  arguments 
for  wealth  and  refinement.  And  yet  I  maintain  that  the 
language  of  the  text  does  not  warrant  us  in  asking  for 
anything  merely  to  gratify  pride,  or  love  of  power,  or 
love  of  ease.  All  that  we  are  to  ask  for,  in  this,  is  sim- 
ply needed  material  good.  Let  the  great  Disposer 
bestow  wealth  and  its  benefits  as  He  will.  If  besides 
our  daily  bread  these  come  to  us,  then  how  much  greater 
our  responsibilities ! 

But  are  there  not  many  who,  if  they  should  confine 
their  petition  to  this  interpretation,  would  find  their 
worldly  desires  much  narrowed  from  their  present  scope  ? 

Tell   me,  what  animates  the  eager  toil  of  thousands? 
10 


110  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

What  is  the  prayer  expressed  by  their  action  ?  Is  it 
not,  evidently,  a  prayer  for  the  means  not  merely  of 
subsistence  and  comfort,  not  merely  for  refinement  and 
benevolence,  but  for  sensual  gratification,  display,  and 
power  ?  Is  not  hunger  after  pleasure,  the  epicurean 
lust  of  luxury,  the  vanity  of  ostentation,  the  rivaly  of 
fashion,  often,  at  the  heart  of  it  ?  Nay,  is  not  the  love 
of  earthly  good  for  itself  alone,  the  fire  that  burns  in 
the  souls  of  many  ?  Is  not  this  the  reason  why  the 
seeker  for  wealth  is  never  satisfied  ?  Why  always  he 
plunges  among  the  cares  of  business,  and  never  retires 
to  rest,  to  think,  to  pray  ?  Or  if  he  does  pray,  is  there 
any  consistency  between  his  prayer — "  Give  us  this  day 
bread  for  subsistence,"  and  his  thirsty  seeking? 

While,  then,  we  leave  to  God  the  amount  of  our 
earthly  good,  surely  this  prayer  sincerely  uttered  can 
express  no  inordinate  sensual  desire  ;  but  a  wise  suppli- 
cation and  a  trustful  content.  Says  the  apostle — "  Ye 
ask,  and  receive  not,  because  ye  ask  amiss,  that  ye  may 
consume  it  upon  your  lusts."  Is  not  this  the  spirit  in 
which  too  many  breathe  even  the  simple  prayer — "  Give 
us  this  day  our  daily  bread?" 

Thus  have  I  endeavored  to  exhibit  the  significance  of 
the  text,  the  manner  in  which  we  can  consistently  utter 
it,  and  the  practical  inferences  that  may  be  drawn  from 
it.     I  close  with  two  or  three  general  remarks. 


GIVE     US    TI11.5    DAY    OL'U    UAII.V     BRKAD.  Ill 

Consider,  then,  I  beseech  you,  the  force  of  this  word 
daily.  Is  not  the  petition  of  the  text  one  that  should  be 
daily  lifted  up  ?  Are  not  our  wants  always  new  ?  Are 
not  His  mercies  fresh,  every  morning  and  evening? 

Again,  let  the  language  of  the  text  suggest  that  deeper 
want  to  which  I  have  alluded  ;  that  spiritual  need,  and 
that  bread  that  cometh  down  from  heaven. 

And  let  me  close  the  consideration  of  the  text,  by 
again  referring  to  the  beautiful  lesson  of  Providence 
which  it  teaches.  Let  our  hearts  be  impressed  with  the 
thought  that  He  whom  we  ask  for  our  daily  bread,  is 
always  round  about  us,  noticing  our  wants,  refreshing 
all  the  springs  of  bounty,  and  holding  all  the  issues  of 
being  ;  for  it  is  a  joyful  and  a  sanctifying  thought. 

Especially  is  this  truth  suggested  by  the  present  sea- 
son.* Standing  upon  the  threshold  of  Spring,  we  wit- 
ness, as  it  were,  the  developments  of  a  new  creation. 
An  unseen  Hand  has  rolled  the  earth  through  the  zodiac, 
and  prepared  it  for  fresh  and  abundant  life.  The  dark 
ground  gives  now  but  little  promise  ;  yet  we  know  that, 
already,  a  marvellous  process  stirs  in  its  alembics,  and 
its  veins  thrill  with  secret  inspiration.  A  method  which 
we  cannot  comprehend,  will,  in  due  time,  clothe  it  with 
vernal  loveliness,  and  with  summer  wealth.  Touched 
anew  by  the  conviction  of  a  Power  working  far  outside 

*  This  discourse  was  preached  March  4th. 


112  GIVE    US    THIS    DAY    OUR    DAILY    BREAD. 

the  circle  of  our  own  agency — a  power  which  furnishes 
every  morsel  of  our  daily  bread — we  also  detect^  in  the 
mechanism  of  things  about  us,  the  mystic  intercourse  of 
human  endeavor  and  infinite  help.  In  the  unfolding 
energies  of  spring-time,  we  read  not  only  a  call  to  pray, 
but  a  summons  to  labor. 

So  let  us  believe  in  this  Providence,  working "  for  us 
and  co-operating  with  us,  in  all  the  mazy  discipline  of 
our  lot.  Let  it  be  a  cheerful  thought  for  us  in  hours  of 
sadness.  Let  us  lean  upon  it  in  our  weakness  and  dis- 
may. Let  us  filially  seek  the  succor  it  proffers  and  love 
the  communion  it  opens.  Let  it  fortify  us  with  faith. 
Let  it  animate  us  to  duty;  Let  us  cherish  it  with  de- 
vout humility  and  calm  reliance.  Content,  obedient,  let 
us  both  wait  and  act  in  the  midst  of  this  Divine  hospital- 
ity, these  rich  incentives,  and  that  sheltering  care. 


DISCOURSE    VI 


"  And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors." — Matthew  vi.  12. 

The  petition  which  we  considered  in  the  last  dis- 
cource,  issues  from  the  depths  of  our  mortahty,  and  be- 
trays our  relationship  to  all  the  forms  of  earthly  being. 
For,  more  or  less,  articulately,  that  desire — "  Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread,"  goes  up  from  every  material  thing. 
It  rises  from  the  dwellings  of  men,  and  the  den  of  the  wild 
beast ;  from  the  bird  that  beats  the  trackless  air,  and 
from  the  herb  that  waits  for  the  summer  rain.  All  nature 
looks  up  for  its  food,  and  we,  I  repeat,  as  members  of 
the  great  whole,  thus  express  our  share  in  the  common 
want. 

But  the  petition  at  which  we  have  now  arrived,  springs 
from  a  depth  profounder  than  any  animal  necessity.  It 
bespeaks  a  hunger  and  thirst  which  no  material  good  can 
satisfy.  It  shows  that  the  roots  of  man's  being  pierce 
below  the  mold  of  sense,  and  are  involved  with  the  mys- 
teries of  the  eternal  world.  The  cry — "  Forgive  us  our 
debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,"  bursts  from  a  moral 


114  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

being  ;  from  a  being  who  is  a  cJiild  as  well  as  a  creature 
of  God — from  a  being  of  free-will,  of  spiritual  experience, 
and  immortal  destiny. 

The  text  expresses  both  a  desire,  and  its  qualification 
— "  Forgive  us  our  debts"  on  the  one  hand ;  "as  we  for- 
give our  debtors,"  on  the  other.  Of  itself,  then,  it  is  sep- 
arated into  two  general  divisions,  under  which  I  shall 
arrange  the  remarks  I  have  to  make  at  this  time. 

I.  I  observe,  then,  that  the  words  which  compose  the 
first  branch  of  the  text,  express  a  consciousness  of  sin. 
Whether  we  employ  the  term  "  debts,"  or  "  trespasses," 
we  mean  essentially  the  same  thing.  They  are  used  in- 
terchangeably by  Jesus.  Either  conveys  the  idea  of 
guilt  both  in  conduct  and  in  obligation  ;  by  omission  and 
commission.  And  whatever  may  be  the  direction 
of  that  guilt,  whether  manifested  against  ourselves 
and  styled  vice,  or  against  our  fellow-men  and  called 
crime,  or  especially  against  God  and  termed  sin — it 
is  all  in  reality,  sin,  for  its  spirit  is  resisted  by  His  sanc- 
tions, and  to  Him  we  must  look  for  absolute  pardon. 
He  is  indissolubly  mingled  with  the  ideas  of  Right  and 
Wrong,  and  no  self-discipline,  or  restitution,  will  suffice 
unless  we  are  reconciled  t*")  Him. 

First  of  all,  then,  I  say,  it  is  a  consciousness  of  sin, 
which  breathes  through  these  words.  This  is  the  con- 
viction which  has  seized  upon  our  souls,  if  the  prayer 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  115 

is  a  sincere  one.  Otherwise,  it  is  only  form  and 
mockery.  Let  me,  therefore,  speak  more  at  large 
of  this  sentiment. 

The  ideas  of  Right  and  Wrong,  are  as  universal  as 
the  race.  God's  unwritten  law  is  known  in  regions 
where  His  written  requirements  have  never  penetrated. 
Conscience  maintains  its  oracle  in  every  human  soul. 
Witnesses  to  this  fact  break  out  under  the  thickest  igno- 
rance, the  most  degrading  sensualism,  the  most  hideous 
idolatries,  as  well  as  in  the  confessions  of  the  most  saint- 
ed minds.  Athwart  all  the  lines  of  custom,  beneath  all 
forms  of  civilization  and  religion,  broods  an  uneasy  feel- 
ing of  guilt,  alienation,  unworthiness,  which  whether 
expressed  in  sighs  or  ceremonials,  whether  it  quivers  in 
.sacrificial  flames,  or  murmurs — "  God  he  merciful  unto 
me  /"  is,  essentially,  the  same  thing.  Flashing  out  from 
the  personal  centre  of  each,  it  reveals  a  yet  profounder 
centre — the  centre  of  a  common  consciousness,  throb- 
bing with  a  sense  of  sin  ;  the  axis  of  man's  moral  world, 
as  it  were,  declined  from  its  true  poise  and  level.  And 
this  universal  consciousness,  more  than  any  physical  re- 
semblance, proves  the  identical  nature  and  origin  of  man- 
kind. It  matters  but  little  what  diversities  philosophers 
may  detect  with  callipers  and  dissecting-knife,  in  configu- 
ration or  in  color,  so  long  as  we  discover  the  unbroken 
unity  of  this  great  moral  deep  heaving  in  every  breast. 


1 16  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

But  consider  also  the  poioer  of  this  consciousness.  It 
is  true  it  may  brood  vaguely  in  the  soul.  But  when  it  is 
aroused  there  is  no  element  within  us  so  mighty.  There 
is  no  voice  so  persistent  as  the  voice  of  offended  con- 
science. There  is  no  burden  so  heavy  as  the  burden  of 
guilt.  When  once  a  man  really  feels  that  he  has  done 
a  great  wrong,  so  long  as  it  is  unconfessed  and  unrepent 
ed  of  he  cannot  get  rid  of  the  feeling.  The  conviction 
sticks  in  him  like  an  arrow.  Nothing  clings  so  closel}' 
to  him.  "  When  I  kept  silence,"  says  the  Psalmist,  "  my 
bones  waxed  old  through  my  roaring."  The  man  in 
whom  the  consciousness  of  guilt  is  awake,  may  journey 
through  many  lands,  but  he  can  no  more  travel  away 
from  the  thorny  fact  than  from  himself.  He  may  precipi- 
tate his  whole  nature  in  external  activity,  and  forget  this 
abiding  tenant  for  a  time  ;  it  may  be  silenced  for  a 
little  while  by  the  jar  of  the  world.  But  when  he  goes 
into  the  chambers  of  his  being  the  old  reality  is  there, 
and  fresh  yet.  Though  it  may  not  unhinge  his  outward 
life,  or  color  its  facts,  worse  than  the  shirt  of  Nessus  that 
pierced  only  to  the  marrow,  this  is  an  issue  of  inward 
torment,  that  burns  along  the  arteries  of  memory  and  of 
thought,  I  might  specify,  and  show,  for  instance,  how 
a  perjured  spirit  continually  feels  its  false  oath  hurled 
back  upon  it  from  heaven  ;  how  fraud  spoils  the  taste  oi 
luxury,  and  makes  ill-gotten  wealth  a  cankering  chain , 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS,  ll^ 

how  murder  always  hears  its  brother's  blood  crying  from 
the  ground,  making  the  crowd  more  solitary  than  a 
wilderness,  and  the  desert  more  populous  than  a  city, 
while,  sometimes  that  pale  face  hangs  in  the  sunniest 
prospects  by  day,  and  that  awful  memory  breeds  a  foun- 
tain of  stark  and  ghastly  dreams  by  night.  I  might  show 
how  these  men,  all  unwhipped  of  human  justice  as  they 
may  be,  in  the  heavy  consciousness  of  sin,  hear  thunders 
more  deep  than  the  sentence  of  its  judgment-seat,  and 
are  girt  with  a  burning  cincture  more  terrible  than  its 
punishment.  Or  admit — what  in  a  more  protracted  dis- 
cussion I  would  not  admit — that  there  really  can  be  such 
a  thing  as  a  conscience  worn  out,  or  slain  ;  suppose  as 
apparently  is  often  the  case,  that  such  a  man  lives  with- 
out trouble  for  his  wicked  deeds,  heedless  and  happy. 
After  all,  his  joy  is  a  sickly  fancy,  not  the  spontaneous 
ease  of  spiritual  health.  His  carelessness  is  a  strenuous 
carelessness.  Even  if  his  conscience  be  dead  as  a  stone 
— it  is  as  heavy  too.  In  such  a  case,  we  may  believe, 
that  there  would  be  a  consciousness  of  being  unconscious 
— a  sense  of  life  in  death. 

But,  while  I  have  thus  endeavored  to  illustrate  the 
power  there  is  in  a  keen  consciousness  of  guilt,  and 
while,  as  a  universal  feeling,  this  consciousness  must  in 
some  degree  exist  in  iis,  how  comes  it,  as  is  often  the 
case,   that  it  is  not  distinct  and  strong  ?     Do  we  say 


1 1  8  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

"because  we  are  not  thus  grossly  guilty?"  Do  we 
slumber  upon  the  fact  of  ordinary  good  conduct,  of 
respectable  conformity,  and  negative  innocence.  If  thi'a 
is  our  feeling,  we  can  never  earnestly  breathe  the  words 
— "  Forgive  us  our  debts."  Perhaps  a  slight  sense  of 
general  unworthiness  may  animate  this  petition,  when 
we  employ  it  at  all ;  or  it  may  burst  from  our  lips  upon 
the  fresh  consciousness  of  some  wrong  overt  act ;  and 
yet  we  do  not  feel  the  vitality  of  the  sentiment  express- 
ed in  the  prayer.  Let  us  remember  that  an  undisturbed 
conscience  is  no  proof  of  innocence.  This  may  result 
from  spiritual  indolence  and  carelessness ;  from  lack  of 
self-examination.  A  man  may  do  wrong  every  day,  and 
yet  feel  no  compunction  for  that  wrong ,  not  because  he 
has  no  means  of  knowing  better,  but  because  he  never 
uses  those  means.  He  never  looks  into  his  own  soul. 
He  never  compares  it  with  the  standard  which  he  knows 
he  ought  to  consult.  He  never  holds  it  up  to  the  mirror 
of  truth,  nor  concentrates  upon  it  the  focal  light  of  God's 
requirements.  He  lives  to-day  as  he  did  yesterday,  he 
will  live  in  the  same  way  to-morrow ;  pursuing  one  beat- 
en round  of  habit,  and,  perhaps,  never  thinking  of  con- 
science except  in  some  hasty  snatch  of  thought,  or  when 
he  stumbles  into  some  transgression  palpable  to  the  most 
secular  eyes.  His  conscience  is  undisturbed,  simply  be- 
cause he  has  never  disturbed  it.     He  has  this  vague 


FORGIVE  OUR  DE13TS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.     119 

sense  of  moral  unw^orthiness,  as  I  have  said,  but  he  has 
never  gone  down  into  its  depths,  he  has  never  cleft  it 
open  and  let  God's  light  in  upon  it,  in  order  that  he 
might  know  the  degree  of  his  unworthiness.  It  is  sur- 
prising how  much  habit  has  to  do  with  what  is  called  "  a 
quiet  conscience."  We  can  realize  this  sometimes, 
when,  passing  from  one  set  of  customs  to  another — from 
one  circle  where  a  morality  equally  conventional,  yet 
higher  in  degree  exists,  to  another  where  a  yet  lower 
ideal  prevails.  We  see  men  whose  disposition  is  as  ex- 
cellent, whose  love  of  morality  in  the  abstract  is  as 
quick  and  reverent  as  our  own,  yet  who  do  and  say 
things,  as  matters  of  course,  that  strike  us  with  wonder 
and  horror.  This  is  simply  the  effect  of  custom.  The 
conscience  of  these  men  is  encrusted  by  habit. 

Men  are  content  too,  to  live  as  well  as  their 
neighbors,  to  conform  to  the  conventional  pattern  of 
respectability,  to  limit  their  aspirations  to  the  code  of 
generally  recognized  virtues.  Therefore,  morality,  good- 
ness, religion,  instead  of  being  an  absolute  sanction,  an 
exhaustless  life,  an  infinite  attainment,  becomes  a 
fashion.  Each  country  has  one  of  its  own,  and  its 
well-meaning  citizens  would  not  like  to  fall  below  it,  and 
do  not  strive  much  to  going  beyond  it.  If  one  does  fall 
below  it,  he  sinks  into  social  disrepute.  If  he  does  run 
beyond  it,  he  risks  being  called  a  fanatic. 


120  FORGIVE  OUR  DELTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS, 

There  is  a  morality  of  trade,  and,  if  one  conforms  to 
that,  he  and  his  conscience  agree  very  well.  He  eats 
heartily  and  sleeps  peacefully,  without  thought  of  bring- 
ing his  conscience  into  the  light  of  prayerful  introspec- 
tion, and  of  comparing  it  with  the  christian  code.  Or, 
if  this  thought  has  sometimes  occurred  to  him,  he  has 
put  by  its  suggestion  as  something  disagreeable  and  im- 
practicable, and  relapsed  into  the  consolatory  maxim, 
that  he  is  as  good  as  his  neighbors.  There  is  a  morality 
of  politics — a  very  plastic  morality  it  is  too — yet  res- 
pectable men,  w^ithout  any  qualms  of  conscience,  will 
adopt  it  in  an  election  campaign,  while  they  would  not 
employ  it  in  the  ordinary  routine  of  life ;  and  they  ac- 
tually seem  to  think  that  there  is  a  sense  in  w^hich  the 
policy  of  party  may  over-ride  the  ordinances  of  God. 
There  is  a  morality  of  social  life,  very  bland  and  cour- 
teous, nay,  sometimes  exceedingly  virtuous ;  and  yet 
though  it  often  lacks  heart,  and  is  decorated  wdth  a  lie, 
those  who  maintain  it  make  no  complaints  of  conscience. 

Thus,  we  perceive  that  an  unconsciousness  of  sin 
may  ensue  from  a  lack  of  personal  examination  ;  from 
a  monotonous  and  conventional  ideal,  beyond  whose 
limits  men  do  not  look  or  aspire.  Nay,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  systems  of  theology  may  sometimes  induce 
this  comparative  unconsciousness.  While  in  one  set  of 
tenets  God  and  man  have  been  presented  in  a  manner 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  121 

altogether  too  stern  and  gloomy,  it  may  be  the  tendency 
of  another  class  to  put  too  much  out  of  sight  the  evil  of 
sin,  so  that,  even  in  our  devotions,  while  we  are  ^.hank- 
ful  and  prayerful,  we  but  too  little  feel  the  maligUxcy  of 
guilt  and  the  keenness  of  remorse,  and  we  may  be  un- 
conscious that  this  guilt  is  matpiified  by  the  very  light 
in  which  we  regard  the  character  of  God.  Thus  ab- 
sorbed in  contemplation  of  what  the  Deity  will  do,  we 
may  lose  sight  of  what  we  ought  to  do ;  we  may  not 
sufficiently  explore  our  own  hearts  and  contrast  our  in- 
ner life  with  the  ideal  presented  by  Christ. 

But,  whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  our  unconscious- 
ness of  sin,  the  main  point  is  that  that  unconsciousness 
is  no  evidence  of  the  absence  of  sin.  If  a  man  will 
solicitously  ask  himself  how  he  lives — from  what  motives 
and  to  what  ends — if  he  compares  himself  as  he  is  with 
what  he  knows  he  should  be ;  if  he  will  do  this  humbly 
and  prayerfully,  he  will  find  ample  need  for  the  petition 
now  before  us.  Nay,  he  may  find  that  his  very  uncon- 
sciousness of  sin  is  itself  a  great  sin,  a  sign  of  moral 
apathy  that  should  not  exist  amid  the  sanctions  and 
claims  that  press  upon  him.  He  may  find  that  he  has 
as  much  cause,  or  more,  for  a  pungent  sense  of  guilt, 
as  even  the  perjured  or  fraudulent  man  to  whom  I  allu- 
ded ;  and  he  may  detect  a  keen  personal  application  in 

the  words  of  our  Savior — "  Those  eighteen  upon  whom 

11 


122  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

the  tower  in  Siloam  fell,  and  slew  them,  think  ye  that 
they  were  sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusa- 
lem?" 

Let  any  one  seriously  examine  himself,  let  him  con- 
sider candidly  his  sins  of  thought,  word,  and  deed,  nay, 
let  him  count  up  the  number  of  these  even  in  the  course 
of  a  single  day,  and,  surely,  a  strong  consciousness  of 
evil  will  spring  up  fresh  within  him.  But  let  us  not  con- 
fine ourselves  to  positive  faults.  Let  us  not  merely  con- 
sider our  trespasses — our  sins  of  commission ;  but  our 
debts,  our  sins  of  omission ;  and  this  consciousness  will 
become  more  stringent.  First  of  all,  let  us  consider  our 
great  obligations  to  God,  consider  what  He  is,  consider 
His  goodness  towards  us  and  how  we  have  repaid  it — 
the  legion  of  temporal  mercies  that  encompass  us,  the 
spiritual  blessings  culminating  in  the  cross  of  Christ ; 
our  un-performed  duties,  our  unimproved  opportunities, 
the  capacities  of  a  single  day  compared  with  the  use 
which  we  have  made  of  it ;  let  us,  after  all  this,  unlock 
our  own  hearts,  enter  into  their  subtle  windings,  and 
challenge  the  motives  that  lurk  in  their  secret  chambers, 
and  this  prayer  would  burst  from  our  lips  as  never  before. 

Let  us,  in  the  next  place,  endeavor  to  discover  the 
meaning  of  this  petition — "Forgive  us  our  debts."  Ut- 
tered as  it  is,  or  should  be,  with  a  vivid  consciousness, 
what  do  we  desire  and  expect  to  be  done  for  us  ?     I  an- 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  123 

sw^er,  that  our  essential  w^ish,  mingled  with  poignant 
regret,  is  to  be  reconciled  to  God — to  feel  that  He  has, 
as  it  were,  forgotten  our  transgressions,  and  turns  upon 
us  the  light  of  His  countenance.  The  belief  that  our 
sins  are  forgiven  causes  us  to  possess  a  full  sense  of 
rest ;  the  troubled  mind  grows  calm,  its  tormenting  sug- 
gestions sink  as  the  waves  sunk  when  Christ  said,  "  Peace 
be  still."  This  is  the  subjective  method  of  forgiveness, 
vaguely  expressed,  as  all  spiritual  experiences  must  be ; 
this  is  our  own  feeling  as  to  pardon — and  I  do  not  know 
that  it  is  necessary  for  our  philosophy  to  penetrate  fur- 
ther. It  does  not  alter  the  substantial  result  to  know 
precisely  what  is  meant  by  the  forgiveness  of  sin ; 
whether  it  simply  implies  reconciliation,  or  whether  the 
punishment  of  sin  is  remitted  also.  Whether,  although 
there  is  the  peace  of  repentance  there  must  still  ensue 
the  intrinsic  retribution  of  the  guilty  act.  The  original 
word,  which  is  here  translated  "forgive,"  may  be  ren- 
dered "  remit,"  "  send  away,"  and  the  main  idea  of  the 
petition  seems  to  be — "remove  this  heavy  incumbrance 
of  guilt,  this  painful  indebtedness  of  evil."  Even  if, 
after  this  the  natural  consequence  of  sin  ensues,  is  it 
not  an  evidence  of  God's  goodness,  of  His  fixed  and 
wise  discipline  ? 

But,  in  speaking  of  punishment,  let  us  distinguish  be- 
tween its  intrinsic  sting  and  its  more  external  peculiar- 


124  FORGIVE  OUR  DjBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

ities.  Let  us  not  reduce  it  to  the  equivalent  of  a  mere 
physical  law,  which  cannot  be  suspended.  The  intrin- 
sic evil  of  all  sin  is  moral,  and  its  profoundest  retribu- 
tion is  moral  also.  The  sense  of  alienation,  the  spirit- 
ual deadness,  the  remorse,  the  inner  wo,  these  are  as 
judicial  sentences,  ;^nd  penal  fires.  And  when  that  guilt 
is  removed,  when  that  alienation  gives  place  to  reconci- 
liation, when  that  spiritual  deadness  is  exchanged  for 
newness  of  life,  when  that  remorse  turns  to  gratitude  and 
that  inner  wo  to  peace,  is  not  the  retribution  dismissed 
with  the  sin  in  which  it  was  involved  ?  Is  not  the  pun- 
ishment inevitably  forgiven  with  the  guilt  ?  Consider, 
too,  how  much  suffering  there  is  in  repentance  itself; 
how  much  agony,  bitterness,  and  shame.  Is  not  this  a 
part  of  retribution?  We  may  believe  then  that  the  vital 
element  of  retribution  is  dismissed  with  the  sin  ;  and,  in- 
deed, when  we  have  got  so  far  as  heartily  to  cry — "  For- 
give us  our  debts,"  retribution  has  accomplished  at  least 
one  of  its  great  purposes.  Again,  I  say,  that  this  sense 
of  pardon  and  retribution  appears  to  be  the  practical 
one,  whatever  our  philosophy  may  determine.  It  is 
enough  for  the  truly  penitent  soul ;  it  was  enough  for 
weeping  Mary,  and  denying  Peter ;  it  is  enough  for  any 
who  come,  and  sincerely  cry — "Forgive  us  our  debts." 
But,  once  more,  I  observe  that  the  best  evidence  of 
our  sincerity  in  this  prayer,  will  be   our  corresponding 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  125 

conduct.  It  affords  a  peculiar  illustration  of  the  fact 
that  true  prayer  blends  desire  with  action.  Certainly 
we  do  not  truly  repent  of  the  sin  which  we  easily  re- 
sume, and  habitually  cherish.  It  is  not  really  forgiven 
— remitted,  sent  away.  It  wa^  merely  repudiated  by  a 
gush  of  feeling ;  denounced  only  by  the  lips.  At  least, 
the  sin  we  pray  against  we  must  struggle  against,  and 
by  God's  help  overcome.  Oh !  it  is  solemn  mockery  to 
ask  pardon  for  the  sin  we  love  and  mean  to  retain — to 
go  deliberately  and  do  the  very  thing  we  haVe  prayed 
we  might  do  no  more,  or  to  withhold  our  hand  from 
that  which  we  have  prayed  we  might  perform.  The 
evidence  that  this  prayer  is  sincere,  will  be  seen  either 
in  abstinence  or  performance,  in  restitution  or  in  exam- 
ple. He  who  utters  it,  will  abandon  his  old  habit  of 
wrong.  His  lips  and  his  hands  will  be  restrained.  His 
heart  will  be  guarded,  and  his  thoughts  disciplined.  Or, 
he  will  run  in  paths  that  he  has  too  much  neglected ;  he 
will  show  new  love,  new  zeal,  new  forms  of  action. 
Nay,  there  will  be  no  more  striking  evidence  of  his  sin- 
cerity, than  the  fact  that  the  power  with  which  he  has 
committed  trespasses,  will  be  poured  into  new  channels 
for  discharging  obhgations.  Or  the  wrong  that  such  an 
one  has  done  to  a  fellow-man,  will  be  repaired  if  possi- 
ble. And  yet  how  many  evils  are  there,  even  in  regard 
to    our   fellow-men,    that    cannot   be    repaired.      What 


12G  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

grievous  injury  have  we  often  committed,  for  instance, 
in  our  example.  Not  only  have  we  furnished  them  with 
no  incentive  to  truth  and  goodness  by  our  walk  and 
conversation,  but  perhaps  our  influence  has  been  exerted 
upon  them  for  positively  bad  ends  ;  even  though  we 
may  not  have  intended  that  influence.  And  there  can 
hardly  be  a  keener  subject  of  remorse  than  this  fact, 
when  we  call  it  up  in  retrospect.  For  this  injury  we 
can  make  no  restitution  except  by  lives  of  virtue  and 
religion  in  the  future. 

In  these,  or  in  other  forms,  then,  we  shall  show  the 
sincerity  of  our  prayer.  I  shall  not  be  understood  to 
say,  in  any  sense,  that  we  can  repay  God  for  the  wrong 
we  have  done.  Notwithstanding  all  we  may  do  for  our- 
selves and  others,  our  indebtedness  to  Him  remains.  But 
I  have  merely  urged  the  fact  that  corresponding  action 
is  a  necessary  adjunct  to  our  verbal  petition.  That 
without  it  there  is  no  true  desire,  no  real  forgiveness, 
however  earnestly  we  may  say — "  Forgive  us  our 
debts." 

II.  The  last  remark  naturally  introduces  us  to  the 
second  division  of  the  text — "  As  we  forgive  our  debtors." 
Here  is  suggested  at  once  a  general  course  of  action, 
without  which  the  prayer — "  Forgive  us  our  debts,"  is 
nugatory.  There  is  a  qualification,  or  condition  to  our 
desire,  without  which  that  desire  has  no  efficacy  or  re- 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  127 

ality.  It  is  a  condition  upon  which  our  Savior  emphat- 
ically insists.  He  returns  to  it  immediately  after  the 
close  of  the  prayer,  and  says — "  For  if  ye  forgive  men 
their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive 
you  :  but,  if  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither 
will  your  heavenly  Father  forgive  your  trespasses." 
Again,  in  Mark,  he  says — "  When  ye  stand  praying, 
foi'give,  if  ye  have  ought  against  any :  that  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  may  forgive  you  your  trespasses. 
But  if  ye  do  not  forgive,  neither  will  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven  forgive  your  trespasses."  And  most  strik- 
ingly has  he  illustrated  the  same  doctrine  in  the  parable 
of  the  two  Debtors. 

Now  that  there  are  some  limitations  to  these,  as  to  all 
general  statements,  will  not  be  denied.  We  do  not  sup- 
pose that  the  forgiveness  of  others  is  the  sole  condition 
of  onr  pardon,  whether  we  perform  other  duties  or  not. 
Nor  need  we  understand  it  as  forbidding  us  to  claim  our 
just  dues,  nor  even  as  condemning  the  infliction  of  pun- 
ishment, for,  as  we  have  seen,  the  spirit  of  forgiveness 
may  co-exist  with  the  exercise  of  punishment.  We  can- 
not suppose  that  the  doctrine  of  the  text  means  anything 
that  would  really  impair  the  moral  law,  or  unhinge 
society ;  but  it  is  certain  that  this  requirement  to  forgive 
others,  is  no  light  requirement — no  secondary  principle. 
it  must  not  be  narrowed  or  weakened  ;  it  must  not  be 


128  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

thrust  aside  for  an  ordinary  exception;  it  must  not  be 
sopiiistically  explained  away  by  our  interest,  or  our  pas- 
sion ;  it  must  not  be  neglected  as  an  impracticable  ab- 
straction. It  is  a  vital  condition  that  Christ  thus  im- 
poses upon  us,  and,  ere  we  give  it  utterance,  ere  we 
weld  it  into  our  burning  desire  for  pardon  before  the 
mercy-seat,  it  will  be  well  for  us  to  consider  its  meaning, 
and  the  heed  we  give  to  it. 

One  fact  seems  clear — that  if  we  consistently  utter  the 
words  in  the  text,  we  cannot  harbor  before  God  a  grudge 
towards  any  man.  There  is  no  wound  so  deep  that  we 
may  cherish  malice  towards  him  who  inflicted  it.  There 
is  no  quarrel  so  serious  that  we  can  exclude  our  antag- 
onist from  our  pardoning  sentiment.  There  is  no  posture 
of  affairs  between  ourselves  and  another  that  will  justify 
our  setting  him  aside  as  a  just  exception.  If  there  might 
only  be  that  one  exception,  perhaps  we  could  utter  this 
conditional  petition  freely.  We  could  look  about  us  then 
and  say — "  We  are  at  peace  with  all."  But  this  particular 
case  must  not  be  brought  into  the  question.  "Excuse 
that.  Do  not  touch  it.  It  is  a  sore  point.  Do  not  in- 
sist against  that  hardness;  surely  the  condition  was  never 
meant  to  reach  so  far  as  that."  And  yet,  that  is  the 
very  thing  that  balks  the  whole  petition.  That  is  the 
very  point  which  Christ  touched  so  emphatically  ;  and 
until    ihat  particular  obstacle  melts  away,  this  prayer — 


FORGIVE  OUK  DEBTS  AS  WE  I'URUIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.     129 

"  Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors,"  is  a 
mockery.  "  Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  those 
against  whom  we  entertain  no  grudge  !'"'  Why,  what 
would  be  the  significance  of  such  a  prayer  ?  But  for 
the  very  reason  that  it  is  a  hard  point  to  surrender  our 
cherished  enmity ;  for  the  very  reason  that  it  costs  a 
pang  and  a  mighty  struggle,  to  pluck  out  pride  from  our 
hearts,  and  to  extract  our  rankling  ravenge  ;  the  condi- 
tion is  so  keenly  pressed  upon  us.  And  yet,  when  I 
think  how  often  this  prayer  may  be  breathed  while  this 
reservation  is  really  made  ;  when  I  think  too,  how  com- 
mon is  the  lust  of  revenge,  how  hastily  it  is  adopted,  how 
intimately  it  becomes  entangled  with  our  pride,  our  pre- 
judice, and  our  interest;  how  sad  and  wide-spread, 
often,  is  its  operation ;  how  it  breaks  up  the  fellowship 
of  men,  transmutes  bosom-friends  to  foes,  divides  fami- 
lies, and  causes  persecution,  ruin,  and  murder ;  how  it 
lies  as  a  bitter  ingredient  in  so  many  cups,  and  bites  like 
a  secret  viper  in  so  many  hearts ;  and  yet  these  words 
— "  Forgive  us  our  debts,"  such  solemn,  such  profound 
words,  are  so  frequently  mingled  with  the  qualification 
— "as  we  forgive  our  debtors,  "I  cannot  but  wonder  at 
the  formality  and  insignificance  of  our  devotion.  For,  I 
repeat,  these  are  no  light  words.  This  is  no  unimport- 
ant doctrine  that  shines  so  among  the  leaves  of  the  New 
Testament.     When  we  lift   up  our   hearts  to  the  all- 


130  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

all-seeing  God,  we  must  embrace  in  the  circle  of  our 
thought,  all  who  have  trespassed  against  us — all  who  are 
morally  indebted  to  us — and  as,  in  our  clinging  weakness, 
our  remorse,  and  our  shame,  we  cry  to  Him  for  pardon, 
so  must  we  pardon  them ! 

And,  of  course,  that  which  must  thus  break  as  a  de- 
vout sentiment  from  our  hearts,  and  direct  our  hands, 
must  appear  in  our  conduct.  If  there  is  one  feeling  in 
the  bosom  of  man  that  is  full  and  strong  like  the  ocean- 
tide,  it  is  the  feeling  that  promptly  rises  to  revenge  an 
injury.  If  there  is  one  memory  that  burns  iii  the  soul 
like  an  everlasting  flame,  it  is  the  memory  of  a  wrong. 
Old  grudges  are  locked  in  the  heart  for  years,  and  be- 
queathed as  heir-looms.  An  insult  is  repaid  with  inter- 
est. A  refusal  to  accommodate  at  one  time  is  emphati- 
cally compensated  by  a  counter-refusal.  Or  if  we  have 
been  able  somewhat  to  c^rcome  this  madness  of  reta- 
liation ;  if  we  refuse  to  give  back  wrong  for  wrong ;  how 
much  harder  is  it  to  overcome  the  reluctance  to  benefit 
those  who  have  injured  us — to  pardon  and  to  bless  them? 
Or,  if  we  have  reached  even  this  degree  of  Christian 
temper,  have  we  not  performed  the  good  act  remember- 
ing that  such  deeds  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  the  heads  of 
our  enemies — and  have  we  not  been  sadly  disappointed 
if  the  coals  did  not  scorch  ?  But  not  even  this  degree 
of  forgiveness  is  attained  by  the  many.     Genera'ly,  the 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  131 

irritation  is  nursed  and  kept  raw  ;  and  with  what  a  thrill 
of  pleasure  does  the  abused  clutch  the  abuser,  exclaim- 
ing— "It  is  my  turn  now!"  And  if,  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  we  bid  that  uplifted  hand  forbear,  and  that  sur- 
charged spirit  of  revenge  distill  in  pardon,  are  we  not 
regarded  as  fanatical  ?  Are  we  not  told  that  we  are 
preaching  an  impracticable  virtue — that  we  are  en- 
deavoring to  thwart  human  nature  with  abstractions  ? 
Doubtless,  such  a  spirit  is  contrary  to  the  customary- 
practices  and  the  darling  ideals  of  men ;  but  we  are 
learning  now  of  a  higher  oracle  than  this  world.  To 
you  O  man !  whoever  you  are,  if  you  are  conscious  that 
you  need  pardon,  that  you  are  weak,  tempted,  guilty; 
if  you  would  cry  to  the  merciful  God — "Forgive  us 
our  debts  ;"  to  you  is  proclaimed  the  inevitable  condi- 
tion— "  as  we  forgive  our  debtors."  And  do  you  say 
that  this  is  an  impossible  condition  ?  Nay  it  has  been 
lived,  and  in  the  same  spirit  may  be  lived  again.  See 
— scourged,  mocked,  spit  upon,  who,  with  meek  face, 
lifts  up  that  bloody  brow  and  breathes  a  prayer  of  par- 
don? Reviled,  he  reviles  not  again.  Suffering,  he 
threatens  not.  Oppressed,  afflicted,  "  as  a  lamb  brought 
to  the  slaughter,  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is  dumb, 
so  he  openeth  not  his  mouth."  Who  is  this  ?  He  who 
bids  us  forgive  as  we  would  be  forgiven ;  and  who, 
in  the  judgment-hall,  and    on  the   cross,  exhibited  his 


132  FORGIVE  OCR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

precepts  in  action.  I  know  that  the  standard  of  tht 
world  is  below  this,  and  the  heart  of  man  chafes  at  it, 
but  if  we  would  render  allegiance  to  his  teachings,  this 
is  the  spirit  that  must  control  us. 

And  now,  perhaps,  we  can  see  why  Christ  laid  such 
stress  upon  this  particular  virtue  of  Forgiveness.  He 
urged  it  thus  strongly,  because  it  is  a  virtue  so  difficult  to 
practice,  because  it  costs  so  much  effort  and  sacrifice.  For 
before  we  can  truly  accomplish  it,  we  must  surrender 
some  of  the  deepest  feelings  in  our  breasts.  We  must 
give  up  not  only  hate,  but  pride  and  self-will.  Our  ob- 
stinate hearts  must  be  penetrated  and  melted  by  the 
spirit  of  Christian  Love.  After  all,  as  a  general  thing., 
our  spirit  of  revenge  does  not  long  retain  its  fierce  edge, 
it  is  not  always  a  hot  and  wild  passion,  but  subsides  into 
a  more  quiet  resentment.  Still  it  is  nourished  by  our 
jealousy,  by  the  conceit  of  dignity,  and  by  the  desire  for 
consistency.  We  wish  to  show  our  enemy  and  the 
world  that  we  are  enough  for  him ;  that  we  have  persis- 
tency and  toughness ;  that  we  can  give  back  blow  for 
blow,  scorn  for  insult.  TTe  will  not  be  the  first  to  hang 
out  a  flag  of  truce,  or  to  make  advances  !  But  let  him 
change  his  antagonistic  abuse  and  our  crested  pride  will 
be  apt  to  droop,  our  alarmed  sensitiveness  to  subside.  I 
cannot  believe  that,  commonly,  a  man's  heart  is  so  hard 
that  he  will  not  pity  a  fallen  enemy,  and  quench  his  vin- 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  133 

dictiveness  at  the  sight  of  his  misfortunes.  When  our 
old  foe  stands  helpless,  w^hat  is  there  for  us  to  oppose 
and  injure  ?  And  when  he  sleeps  his  last  sleep,  when 
he  lies  before  us  still  and  nerveless,  w^hen  we  gaze  once 
for  all  upon  that  face  which  we  have  remembered  to 
hate,  and  think  how  cold  that  heart  is  which  hated  us, 
death  looks  so  rebukingly  to  us  that  it  melts  all  our  stub- 
bornness and  wrings  our  spirits  with  regret.  We  would 
not,  if  we  could,  follow  him  with  our  revenge.  We 
would  not  plant  it  upon  the  grassy  mound,  nor  intrude  it 
into  the  sacred  privacy  of  the  grave.  Passion,  perhaps, 
has  been  spent  long  ago,  but  it  required  something  like 
this  before  our  pride  ^.70uld  yield.  But  the  requirement 
is,  that  before  this  necessary  crisis  we  should  give  up 
that  pride.  If  the  true  spirit  of  the  prayer  had  influen- 
ced us  at  an  earner  period,  how  much  bitterness  might 
have  been  spared  to  us.  and  to  him  who  now  lies  yon- 
der !  With  what  different  feelings  might  we  have  cher- 
ished his  memory! 

But  not  only  does  the  condition  in  the  text  require  a 
difficult,  but  a  profound  work  on  our  part,  for  it  de- 
mands the  renunciation  of  selfishness.  And,  after  all, 
this  is  the  essential  evil  which  it  opposes.  This  is  at 
the  bottom  of  all  our  revenge.  This  keeps  green  the 
roots  of  our  enmity.     This  is  expressed  in  that  hateful 

wilfulness  which  nerves  us  to  maintain  our  own  rights  at 
12 


134  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

all  cost,  to  press  them  to  the  last  limit — even  to  the 
pound  of  flesh.  When  we  speak  of  our  "  debtors,"  we 
refer  not  merely  to  our  enemies,  but  to  all  who  by  any 
chance  in  life  depend  upon  our  mercy,  or  need  our  con- 
sideration. If  we  really  forgive,  then  we  promise  not  to 
be  hard  with  them,  not  to  insist  upon  every  exaction, 
not  to  claim  with  unfeeling  tenacity  all  things  acciden- 
tally due  to  our  position  ;  but  to  exercise  a  self-sacrifi- 
cing amenity.  How  deeply,  then,  into  our  customs 
and  dispositions,  does  this  condition  cleave !  It  calls, 
I  repeat,  for  nothing  less  than  the  eradication  of 
selfishness  ;  it  implies  nothing  less  than  the  ingathering 
of  the  full  spirit  of  Christ's  Love.  We  are  so  situated 
in  this  life  that  as  we  are  dependent  upon  others,  so 
thousands  are  dependent  upon  us,  indebted  to  us  for  our 
word  or  our  deed,  our  mercy  and  our  aid ;  and  we  are  called 
upon  to  cherish  the  disposition  of  that  God  to  whom  we 
pray.  How  awful  would  be  the  truth,  were  He  nothing 
but  infinite  Self- Will — a  self-will  using  power  without 
regard  to  the  welfare  of  His  creatures.  And  how  glo- 
rious is  the  fact  that  He  is  infinite  Love,  ever  seeking 
our  benefit !  And  yet,  is  not  self-will  the  ruling  princi- 
ple in  the  world  ?  Is  it  not  the  festering  plague  and  the 
desolating  force,  that  afflicts  and  overthrows .''  And 
when  we  reflect  upon  the  change  that  this  spirit  of  for- 
giveness would  induce,  do  we  wonder  that  Christ  urged 


FORGIVE  OUK  DEBTS  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  135 

it  SO  impressively  ?  Do  we  wonder  that  he  made  it  a 
great  condition  in  our  pardon  ?  Nay,  is  it  not  an  essen- 
tial condition  ?  For,  how  can  we  be  forgiven  unless 
we  do  forgive  ?  How  can  we  have  our  sin  remitted, 
sent  away,  unless  hatred,  revenge,  selfishness  the  root 
of  all  sin,  be  removed  from  us  ?  Is  not  the  one  by  the 
inevitable  nature  of  things,  the  measure  of  the  other  ? 

In  various  relations  of  life,  then,  does  the  qualification 
in  the  prayer  apply  to  man.  It  applies  to  you,  oh  hard- 
hearted exactor,  grinding  the  faces  of  the  poor ;  to  you 
oh  unmerciful  one,  urging  your  private  malignity  in  the 
name  of  justice ;  to  you,  oppressor,  peeling  the  flesh  of 
men  with  the  iron  and  the  scourge — to  all  of  us,  who  in 
any  relation  of  life,  restrain  the  spirit  of  christian  kind- 
ness and  forbearance. 

My  friends,  if  this  petition  were  sincerely  uttered  in 
christian  closets  and  christian  churches,  society  would 
be  leavened  with  a  new  life,  and  molded  into  a  far  better 
shape.  Mighty  has  been  the  antagonism  in  the  world 
between  Christ's  spirit  of  mercy  and  man's  spirit  of 
selfishness.  Where  the  one  has  gone  abroad  as  an  iron 
force,  the  other  has  proceeded  as  a  moral  power.  Where 
the  one  has  swept  like  the  tempest,  the  other  has  followed 
like  the  summer  dawn.  Where  the  one  has  embattled 
armed  legions,  the  other  has  sent  Teachers  of  truth, 
Missionaries  of  peace,  and   Sisters  of  Charity,     Where 


136  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTS  AS  *,  £  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS. 

the  one  has  bleached  the  earth  with  human  bones,  the 
other  has  clothed  it  with  shining  harvests.  Where  the 
one  has  reared  shambles  of  lust  and  marts  of  mammon,  the 
Other  has  built  asylums  and  hospitals  and  opened  countless 
channels  of  benevolence.  Where  the  one  has  blotted 
heaven  with  the  smoke  of  worldliness  and  shut  us  in 
with  walls  of  materialism,  the  other  has  revealed  the 
starry  prospect  of  immortality.  Where  the  one  has  de- 
graded man,  nourished  skepticism  and  engendered  des- 
pair, the  other  has  kindled  in  the  soul  a  consciousness  o.^ 
its  destiny,  and  pom'ed  the  great  influences  of  redemp- 
tion. 

This  struggle  is  still  going  on.  Even  now  does  the 
spirit  of  Christ's  mercy  question  the  selfishness  of  those 
codes,  by  which  in  the  name  of  punishment  man  grati- 
fies revenge,  and  for  the  sake  of  preservation  insists 
upon  destruction.  The  ample  Christianity  of  the  Gos- 
pels gathers  even  the  tainted  criminal  into  its  fold,  and 
while  it  bids  us  protect  also  bids  us  spare.  While  it 
sanctions  retribution  it  urges  us  to  see  to  it  that  retribu- 
tion itself  becomes  a  healing  chastisement.  Even  now 
do  we  discover  the  wisdom  of  saving  rather  than 
destroying,  and  learn  that  a  renewed  soul  is  a  better 
guarantee  for  society  than  a  hateful  victim  ;  that  no  com- 
munity is  so  safe  as  that  where  God's  attributes  are  sov- 
ereign in  their  essential   unity — a    community   strong 


FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTo  AS  WE  FORGIVE  OUR  DEBTORS.  137 

with  that  Justice  which  is  the  pillar,   that  Mercy  which 
is  the  glory  of  His  Throne. 

Still  wider  than  we  can  prophecy,  more  deep  than  we 
can  fathom,  this  spirit  of  mercy  will  contend  with  this 
spirit  of  selfishness.  But  who  can  doubt  the  issue  ? 
Who  that  has  Cv^er  felt  the  need,  or  extended  the  blessing 
of  forgiveness  ? 


DISCOURSE    VII. 


"  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation." — Matthew  vi :  13. 

The  prayer  for  the  pardon  of  sin  is  coupled  with  a 
sense  of  spiritual  weakness.  The  moral  condition  that 
excites  desire  for  the  one,  suggests  the  liabilities  of  the 
other.  In  the  retirement  of  devotion,  the  world  falls 
away  from  us,  its  busy  machinery  stops,  and  its  complex 
shapes  of  action  are  arranged  in  the  order  of  contem- 
plation. Then,  a  man  may  look  calmly  back  upon  his 
past  conduct  and  explore  the  windings  of  his  own  heart. 
He  may  wonder  at  the  slight  causes  that  have  driven 
him  astray ;  at  the  phantoms  he  has  followed  and  em- 
braced ;  at  the  poverty  of  the  draught  which  has  intox- 
icated, at  the  baseness  of  the  chains  which  have  bound 
him.  He  may  wonder  that  his  whole  soul  has  been  so 
intensely  mixed  with  perishable  elements  and  delusive 
forms.  For,  then  he  is  far  above  the  ohafing  current  of 
life.  He  sees  with  a  clearer  vision.  He  applies  the 
touchstone  of  eternal  reality. 

But  when,  smitten  with  repentance,  he  cries  for  for- 


140  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

giveness,  in  that  very  petition,  I  repeat,  he  confesses  his 
liabihty.  The  depth  of  his  remorse  indicates  the  degree 
of  his  exposure.  The  fact  that  these  temporalities, 
worthless  as  they  may  be,  have  so  strongly  controlled 
him,  betrays  his  feebleness.  And  into  that  world  that 
now  beats  against  his  retirement,  he  must  soon  re-enter 
Its  bounding  pulses  will  become  mated  with  his  own 
and  its  hot  life  will  settle  in  his  veins.  And,  however 
much  that  world  has  dwindled  beneath  the  eye  of  con 
templation,  it  will  expand  to  its  old  dimensions  in  the  con 
tact  of  action.  The  future  will  cast  itself  in  the  mold 
of  the  past.  The  bad  suggestions  and  the  fair  deceits, 
the  multitudinous  hosts  of  evil,  that  seemed  like  dreams, 
stand  up  again  awaiting  him  as  hard  realities.  The 
ghosts  of  retrospect  embody  themselves  anew,  and  those 
unsubstantial  shadows  as  they  seemed  in  the  light  of 
evening  reflection  and  of  morning  thought,  he  will  find 
to  be  terrible  facts  in  the  wrestlings  of  passion  and  the 
heat  of  noon-day.  If  he  could  always  experience  the 
freshness  and  freedom  of  that  repentant  hour;  if  that 
calm,  cool  Presence  of  God  could  be  his  tent  in  the 
busy  market  and  the  crowded  street,  he  might  venture 
forth  with  stronger  confidence.  But  a  snare  may  spring 
upon  -him  in  the  very  first  step  from  the  threshold.  The 
first  path  he  turns  into  may  be  a  path  of  disobedience 
and  neglect. 


LEAD  US   NOT  INTO   TEMPTATION.  141 

Besides,  were  the  world  limited  to  the  walls  of  his  own 
chamber,  to  the  bed  of  sickness,  to  the  closet  of  study,  to 
the  cloisters  of  a  monastic  retirement,  nay,  to  the  heart 
alone,, and  that  heart  in  its  devoutest  action  ;  how  thick, 
even  here,  the  forms  of  evil !  How  busy,  how  real ; 
how  mighty !  He,  then,  who  really  feels  his  sins — who 
understands  the  atmosphere  in  which  they  thrive,  the 
moral  condition  from  which  they  spring,  will  instantly 
blend  the  petition  now  before  us  with  that  just  prece- 
ding. No  sooner  will  he  say — "  Forgive  us  our  debts  !" 
than  he  will  pray — "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation." 

It  will  be  well  for  us,  then,  to  consider  the  meaning 
and  the  applications  of  this  prayer,  which  is  so  neces- 
sary and  so  urgent. 

I.  I  observe  that  this  is  not  a  prayer  against  temp- 
tation— that  is,  against  the  circu?nsta7ices  of  temptation. 
For,  this  would  be  a  prayer  against  all  our  powers  and  op- 
portunities. It  would  be  a  virtual  rejection  of  our  highest 
nature  and  of  our  noblest  privileges.  If  a  man  should  ask 
that  he  might  never  be  liable  to  bodily  pain,  it  would  be, 
essentially,  a  petition  that  he  might  never  experience 
bodily  pleasure  ;  for  his  prayer  could  be  answered  only  by 
the  extirpation  of  those  nerves  which  alike  convey  both 
sensations.  If  one  should  ask  that  his  capability  of  seeing 
evil  might  be  quenched,  he  would  really  ask  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  his  eyes;  for  the  faculty  of  beholding  the  evil  as  well 


142  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

as  the  good,  is  the  very  faculty  of  vision  itself.  Following 
out  the  analogy,  I  would  say  that  to  pray  that  we  never 
may  be  tempted,  would  be  to  pray  that  the  circumstances 
of  our  present  existence  may  have  no  moral  significance 
for  us.  It  would  be  a  prayer  that  we  may  have  no  self- 
consciousness,  and  no  spii'itual  freedom.  For,  if  we 
have  self-consciousness,  that  is,  if  we  know  the  charac- 
ter of  our  conduct  and  our  motives,  this  faculty  must  be 
accompanied  by  the  power  of  self-direction.  Why  should 
we  know  the  inner  springs  of  our  moral  nature,  their  dif- 
ferent motives  and  tendencies  and  the  character  of  iheir 
work,  unless  we  have  this  self-control  ?  And,  if  we  have 
this  ability,  or,  in  other  words,  this  moral  freedom,  of 
course  we  have  the  power  of  choice.  But,  again,  there 
is  no  employment  for  this  power  of  choice — we  could 
never  exercise  it — unless  things  have  a  diverse  moral 
significance,  unless  we  are  solicited  by  the  evil  as  well  as  by 
the  good.  The  self-same  consciousness  that  feels  the 
suggestions  of  the  one,  feels  the  suggestions  of  the  other. 
The  ability  to  do  right  is  the  ability  to  do  wrong.  To 
pray,  therefore,  that  we  may  not  be  liable  to  temptation, 
is  to  pray  that  we  may  never  know  or  feel  moral  excel- 
lence— that  we  may  put  out  the  eye,  and  paralyze  the 
nerves  of  the  soul.  Remove  this  liability,  and  you  de- 
stroy the  moral  power  of  our  nature  ;  you  obliterate  the 
highest  peculiarity  of  manhood.     You  would  make  man 


LEAD    US    NOT    INTO    TEMPTATION.  143 

as    a    brute — nay,  as   a  planet,  driven    and  attracted 
upon  the  plane  of  an  inevitable  orbit. 

But  more  than  this,  temptation  is  the  instrument  of  all 
self-productive  power — of  all  spontaneous  moral  energy. 
It  is  the  test  of  all  virtue  ;  nor  can  we  conceive  the  at- 
tainment of  virtue,  without  its  existence  and  opposing 
action.  Virtue  is  not  innocence,  or  mere  abstinence 
from  guilt,  ^t  is  positive  excellence.  It  is  an  acquir- 
ed skill.  It  is  tne  allegiance  of  free-will,  and  the  consum- 
mate grace  of  a  disciplined  nature.  It  does  not  unfold 
itself  as  an  intrinsic  sentiment,  it  does  not  come  by  an 
easy  acquiescence  in  things  ;  but  it  is,  with  God's  help, 
gained,  as  the  intellect  acquires  its  power  and  the 
right  hand  its  cunning,  by  resisting  and  overcoming  ob- 
stacles. 

Now,  we  may  puzzle  ourselves  with  presumptuous 
speculations.  We  may  curiously  ask  whether  God  could 
not  have  made  man  holy  and  happy  without  this  tre- 
mendous exposure — without  going  through  these  battles  of 
temptation  ?  It  will  not  do  for  us  to  dogmatize  in  this 
elevated  region  of  inquiry.  But,  speaking  earnestly,  I  will 
say,  that  I  cannot  conceive  how  God  could  have  made 
man  a  creature  of  progress,  a  being  of  vital  and  original 
morality,  without  bestowing  upon  him  this  contingent 
power,  and  throwing  him  in  contact  with  evil.  I  cannot 
conceive  man's  attaining  the  ideal  of  holiness  and  hap- 


144  I-KAD  US  NOT  INTO   TEMPTATION. 

piness  which  now  lies  within  his  reach,  without  the  self- 
same condition  in  which  he  now  exists.  "But,"  says  a 
shrewd  philosopny,  "  God  made  man's  circumstances  and 
man's  nature  ;  to  whom,  then,  is  the  blame  of  sin  to  be 
referred  ?  Is  man  guilty  if  he  yields,  his  nature  being  so 
weak  and  temptation  so  strong  ?"  But  suppose  we  an- 
swer this  by  assuming  another  philosophy.  Admitting 
that  God  ordained  the  circumstances  and  created  the 
nature  of  man,  it  does  not  follow  that  he  made  the  evil 
of  the  one  or  the  weakness  of  the  other.  But  this  may 
exist  as  an  intrinsic  necessity  in  things,  which  could  not 
be  prevented  any  more  than  the  finite  could  be  made  in- 
finite. But  suppose,  while  this  exists  as  a  necessary  con- 
dition, we  behold  God  pouring  out  all  positive  excellence, 
ordaining  all  order,  harmony,  beauty,  virtue  ;  ever  work- 
ing against  evil  and  calling  upon  man,  His  moral  image, 
everywhere  to  do  the  same,  to  be  his  co-worker  ;  and 
suppose  man  neglects  this  Divine  solicitation,  refuses  this 
Divine  help,  suffers  his  spiritual  energies  to  weaken  and 
to  waste,  and  therefore  of  his  own  will  resists  not  but 
yields  to  sin  ;  where  then  does  the  blame  fall  ?  Suppose 
too,  that  even  foreseeing  man  would  often  fall,  God  fore- 
saw the  most  glorious  result  of  the  whole,  and  thus,  as 
the  'best  election  among  many  possibilities,  ordained  the 
present  scheme,  can  we  in  aught  object  ? 

I  do  not  present  the  above  as  an  established  theory  of 


LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION.  145 

sound  as  the  notion  that  Omnipotence  means  the  power 
of  accompUshing  inconsistencies  as  well  as  possibilities ; 
that  God  made  essential  evil  as  well  as  good  ;  that  the 
murder  committed  by  Cain  was  really  as  acceptable  to 
Him  as  the  sacrifice  offered  by  Abel ;  and  that,  though 
summoning  man  to  resist  sin  and  making  the  richest 
provisions  for  his  escape  from  it,  in  doing  that  sin  he 
is  accomplishing  His  will  as  much  as  in  overcoming  it 
or  flying  from  it.  I  do  not  expect  to  strain  every  moral 
problem  through  the  alembic  of  reason ;  but,  if  one  of 
these  two  theories  must  be  selected,  I  prefer  the  one 
which  I  have  just  suggested. 

But,  my  friends,  there  is  no  need  of  metaphysical 
theories  upon  the  subject  now  before  us.  For,  whatever 
philosophy  we  adopt,  the  blame  is  not  in  the  fact  of  be- 
ing tempted,  but  of  yielding  to  temptation.  Our  nature 
may  be  feeble,  and  our  circumstances  may  teem  with 
evil  suggestions,  but  we  are  not  obliged  to  surrender. 
No  necessity  drives  us  to  sin.  We  are  encouraged  by 
God  and  by  every  good  thing  to  resist  and  to  stand 
fast,  we  are  furnished  with  divine  help,  and  our 
highest  achievement,  is,  by  that  help,  in  overcoming 
evil.  And  when  we  fall,  we  fall  voluntarily.  Says 
the  poet — 

"Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  or  man 

May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved^  and  leave 

No  spot  or  blame  behind." 

13 


146  LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

And,  from  better  authority,  we  know  that  he  who 
came  to  redeem  man  from  evil,  "  was  tempted  in  all 
points  as  we  are,  but  without  sin."  The  solicitous  wrong 
leaves  no  taint  in  our  souls  if  we  let  it  pass  by,  but  the 
cherishing  it,  and  yielding  to  it,  is  the  sin.  And  when 
we  do  this,  we  do  it  freely.  We  do  it  knowing  that  it 
is  wrong,  and  that  we  have  power  to  do  otherwise. 
Ours,  and  ours  alone,  therefore,  is  the  blame. 

Such,  then,  are  the  nature  and  the  consequences  of 
temptation.  And  if  our  weakness,  our  shame,  our  guilt 
are  involved  with  it,  so  are  our  freedom,  our  power, 
our  holiness  and  our  happiness.  Therefore,  we  cannot 
pray  that  we  may  not  be  liable  to  temptation,  or  thai 
we  may  not  be  tempted.  We  cannot  shrink  in  moral 
cowardice  from  the  battle  before  us.  We  cannot  meanly 
hide  our  talent  in  the  earth.  We  must  not  seek  out 
temptation.  We  must  not  rush  into  it.  Nay,  we  should 
avoid  it.  But  we  must  not  decline  it;  we  cannot  escape 
from  it.  Let  us,  then,  with  trust  and  with  prayer  press 
on.  Let  us  remember  that  man  is  not  a  machine  driven 
along  the  grooves  of  fixed  fate,  but  an  incalculable 
power  sent  into  the  universe  to  develop  itself — a  living 
personality  precipitated  upon  the  axis  of  free-will,  and 
from  its  own  inner  impulse  describing  the  parabola  of 
good  or  evil.  He  is  not,  like  material  nature,  the  inert 
receptacle  of  a   higher  force  and  moved  from  without ; 


LEAD   US   NOT   INTO  TEMPTATION.  147 

but,  SO  far  as  the  finite  can  resemble  the  Infinite  he  is 
like  God,  capable  of  original  power,  and,  if  holy,  holy 
not  by  arbitrary  conformity  but  as  an  essential  expres- 
sion of  his  own  being.  Nor  is  there  anything  more 
solemn  than  the  responsibility  which  is  involved  in  this 
moral  freedom  ;  nothing  more  momentous  than  the  en- 
counter of  the  soul  with  temptation ;  nothing  more  fear- 
I'ul  than  the  issues  of  defeat ;  nothing  more  glorious  than 
the  results  of  victory.  But  it  is  a  responsibility  of 
which  we  cannot  rid  ourselves.  Our  noblest  privilege 
is  that  responsibility — our  highest  dignity  is  this  power 
of  choice. 

II.  But  still  we  must  assiduously  lift  up  this  prayer — 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation ;  and  we  shall  breathe 
it  more  earnestly  the  more  we  perceive  the  truths  I  have 
just  urged.  With  no  presumptuous  confidence,  but  with 
humility  and  a  sense  of  weakness,  shall  we  go  forth'  into 
the  world,  or  treat  with  our  own  hearts.  As  the  second 
general  point  in  this  discourse,  then,  let  me  endeavor  to 
present  the  true  meaning  of  the  text.  The  meaning 
opens  to  us  in  the  different  though  proper  rendering  of  a 
single  word.  Instead  of  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation," 
it  would  be  better  to  read — "  Abandon  us  not  to  tempta- 
tion ;"  which  translation  is  sustained  by  good  authority, 
as  well  as  by  the  nature  of  things.  The  spirit  of  this 
prayer,  then,  is  not  directed  against  the  circumstances  of 


148  LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

temptation,  but  against  its  yower  and  in  behalf  of  our 
weakness.  "  Abandon  us  not  to  temptation !  We  are 
in  a  world  of  evil  suggestions.  Leave  us  not  alone,  O 
God,  to  meet  it ;  give  us  ever  thy  divine  help  and  gui- 
dance ;  let  us  not  go  among  its  hosts  unsheltered.  Lead 
us  not  into  temptation — let  us  not  be  ensnared  by  it ; 
but  lead  us  safely,  and  victoriously  through  it !" 

There  are  various  ways  in  which  this  meaning  of  the 
prayer  may  be  specified.  But  perhaps  we  shall  best  ex- 
press its  essential  significance  when  we  say — "  Suffer  us 
not  to  forget  that  God  is,  and  what  God  is."  Let  us  not, 
like  Peter,  fall  into  a  presumptuous  confidence  in  our 
own  virtue.  Let  us  not  go  abroad  in  the  world,  sup- 
posing that  we  alone  are  strong  enough  to  grapple  with 
evil  promptings  and  enticements.  Let  us  remember  that 
we  need  a  constant  sense  of  God's  presence,  a  clear 
perception  of  His  character,  and  a  profound  faith  in  His 
Providential  succor.  It  has  been  said  by  another,  that 
those  who  are  tempted  "  are  tempted  to  doubt  that  God 
is,  and  that  He  is  the  author  of  good,  and  not  of  evil ; 
and  that  He  is  mightier  than  the  evil ;  and  that  He  can 
and  will  overthrow  it,  and  deliver  the  universe  out  of  it. 
This  is  the  real  temptation,  there  is  no  other."*  And  is 
it  not  true  that  men,  when  they  yield  to  temptation, 
really  forget  God — is  not  this  the  radical  mischief?  Con- 
*  JIaurice. 


LEAD  US  NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION.  149 

sider,  for  a  moment.  Do  you  suppose,  if,  at  the  time 
when  sin  is  pressing  you  hard  and  when  your  will  is 
about  to  consent,  a  vivid  sense  of  God  could  break  upon 
you ;  if  a  mighty  consciousness  of  His  Presence  could 
seize  upon  you,  and  you  could  realize  that  His  eye  was 
piercing  to  the  core  of  your  heart ;  if,  moreover,  you 
had  a  clear  perception  of  His  moral  excellence,  of  the 
supremacy  of  goodness  as  manifested  in  Him,  and,  by 
contrast,  of  the  odiousness  of  evil,  do  you  suppose  then 
you  could  give  way  to  that  temptation  ?  And  is  not  all 
evil  triumphant  over  man's  will  and  his  heart,  becau-se 
that  strong  consciousness  is  absent  ?  Were  it  other- 
wise, could  the  murderer  accomplish  his  bloody  intent? 
Before  he  could  brace  himself  to  that  horrid  purpose, 
he  must  struggle  with  temptation ;  he  has  felt  the 
pressure  of  good  as  well  as  the  desire  for  evil.  One  by 
one,  more  or  less  reluctantly,  with  more  or  less  force,  he 
has  smothered  the  suggestions  of  God  in  his  soul.  He 
has  in  himself  put  out  the  light,  before  in  any  other 
sense  he  could  say — "  Put  out  the  light."  What  then, 
as  he  creeps  to  his  deed  under  the  canopy  of  darkness, 
what  then  if  a  sense  of  the  instant  Deity  should  flash 
upon  that  benumbed  conscience,  those  drugged  remon- 
strances in  his  soul  ?  Would  they  not  wake  with  irre- 
sistible energy  ?  What  if,  in  that  lonely  star  that  breaks 
through  the  rifted  cloud,  he  should  detect  the  eye  of  Om- 


150  LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

niscience  ?  What  if,  in  the  passing  wind,  God  should 
talk  to  him  ?  What  if  the  loveliness  of  the  infinite 
Father,  the  glory  of  His  moral  nature,  the  supreme  ex- 
cellence of  goodness,  should  kindle  upon  the  horizon 
before  him  ?  Would  evil  have  any  power  over  him, 
then  ?  Could  any  solicitation  then  attract  him  to  the 
commission  of  that  crime  ?  Or,  suppose  that  an  oppor- 
tunity occurs  for  a  man  to  commit  a  profitable  fraud. 
Suppose  that  every  circumstance  sharpens  the  evil  sug- 
gestion, and  spares  him  even  the  effort  of  invention. 
No  human  skill  can  detect  his  secret,  or  suspect  his 
plan.  The  moral  sense  remonstrates  for  a  time,  but  at 
length  the  biassed  will  conspires  with  the  occasion. 
Everything  is  ready  and  ui'gent.  What  then  if  only  the 
truth  of  God  should  shoot  like  a  sunbeam  through  his 
wicked  purposes  ?  What  then  if  he  should  be  vividly 
struck  with  the  conviction  that  God  is,  and  should  real- 
ize the  great  sanctions  involved  in  that  fact  ?  The  temp- 
tation would  lose  its  charm,  and  the  web  of  deceit  drop 
from  his  trembling  hands.  Or  take  any  man  who  lives 
a  life  of  mere  convenience  and  policy,  who  recognizes  no 
higher  standard  than  self-interest,  and  who  values  noth- 
ing but  sensual  good  and  is  completely  controlled  by  his 
appetites  and  lusts  ;  and  is  not  the  essential  error  of  such 
a  life  the  lack  of  hearty  belief  in  God  ?  Yes,  tempta- 
tion is  fed  by  practical  atheism ;  by  a  vital  skepticism 


LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION.  151 

as  to  moral  goodness.  The  great  truths  of  God  and 
duty  are  dim  and  feeble  in  the  soul,  and  covered  with 
sensual  accretions.  Our  action  is  outward  and  habitual 
rather  than  introspective  and  sincere.  We  live  in  con- 
ventionalisms, and  our  conventionalisms  are  dead  at  the 
root.  Our  plans,  our  motives,  our  ideals,  are  mixed  with 
a  confused  and  jarring  worldliness.  We  test  them  with 
earthly  weights  and  measures.  We  do  not  single  them 
out  in  prayer.  We  do  not  let  the  light  of  infinite  reality 
stream  in  upon  them.  We  do  not  stand  face  to  face 
with  God.  If  we  did,  we  would  never  practically  deny 
the  might  and  the  worth  of  goodness.  We  never  would 
surrender  to  evil.  We  never  would  be  overswept  by 
strong  delusion  to  believe  a  lie ;  to  submit  to  the  fatal 
deceit  that  there  is  any  real  gain  in  sin,  or  any  loss  in 
virtue.  Nor  would  we  ever,  in  moments  of  intellectual 
perplexity,  lose  our  faith,  or,  in  seasons  of  sorrow  and 
gloom,  give  place  to  distrust.  Temptation,  then,  would 
have  no  edge.  Our  faith  would  prevent  our  deliberate 
yielding  to  sin,  and  would  guard  us  from  passionate  sur- 
prise. Before  our  true  ideal,  the  wrong,  however  at- 
tractive its  semblance,  would  change  and  fall  like  Dagon. 
There  have  lived  those  whose  history  far  transcends 
the  ordinary  standard,  and  who  are  distinguished  even 
among  the  great  men  of  the  earth.  They  strike  us  by 
their  calm  grandeur — by   their  moral  force.     Though 


152  LEAD   US   NOT   INTO  TEMPTATION. 

dead,  they  are  springs  of  an  ever-fresh  vitaUty,  and  their 
influence  beats  as  a  constant  inspiration  through  the  ar- 
teries of  the  race.  Their  dying  words,  though  mocked 
at,  were  living  prophecies,  and  their  eyes,  though  they 
looked  through  veils  of  flame,  looked  far  into  the  future. 
These  were  the  heroes  of  the  truth,  the  martyrs  for 
righteousness'  sake,  the  men  who  could  find  no  com- 
promise between  right  and  wrong,  the  men  who 


Gave  glorious  chase 


To  persecutions;  and  against  the  face 

Of  Death  and  fiercest  dangers,  durst  with  brave 

And  sober  pace  march  on  to  meet  a  grave." 

Sometimes  they  appear  in  a  more  gentle  mold,  and 
die  in  a  less  celebrated  theatre.  But  they  are  all  distin- 
guished by  a  reliance  i^pon  something  deeper  than  time 
or  sense  ;  by  a  stedfast  rejection  of  evil  however  splen- 
did, even  though  it  involves  the  boon  of  life  itself ;  by 
an  open  confession  of  truth  even  in  blood  and  flame. 
Their  real  strength  and  recompense  was  belief  in  God, 
in  the  worth  and  the  power  of  goodness.  And  that  faith 
dwelling  now  in  the  heart  of  ihe  feeblest  man,  shall  make 
him  stronger  than  all  this  world.  In  the  allurements  of 
wealth  and  pleasure,  it  shall  be  a  safeguard  and  a  guide. 
In  misfortune  it  shall  confirm  religious  trust,  and  make 
the  bed  of  poverty  like  Jacob's  stony  pillow ;  it  shall 
arm  the  heart  v/ith  sublime  courage  and  banish  all  the 
clouds  of  doubt.  It  and  it  alone  is  the  strength  of  the 
tempted  spirit,  whatever  the  form  of  temptation. 


LEAD   US   NOT   INTO  TEMPTATION.  153 

Thus  we  perceive  the  force  of  the  prayer — "  Abandon 
us  not  to  temptation."  It  is  essentially  an  expression  of 
faith  in  God.  It  is  a  Prayer  that  we  may  always  enter- 
tain a  sense  of  His  presence  and  of  His  nature ;  and 
that  we  may  not  fall  into  practical  atheism.  When  we 
sincerely  breathe  this  petition,  we  are  armed  against  sin. 
When  we  thus  virtually  say,  we  will  worship  the  Lord 
our  God,  and  Him  only  will  we  serve,  the  devil  leaveth 
us.  When  evil  solicitation  presses  us,  and  we  lean  upon 
our  Father,  and  cry,  "  Abandon  us  not  to  temptation," 
we  have  an  answer  and  a  help  in  the  prayer  itself. 

III.  Let  us  consider,  finally,  some  circumstances  in 
which  the  prayer  of  the  text  is  applicable.  As  a  general 
remark,  then,  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  the  occa- 
sions of  temptation  are  continual  and  multiform.  They 
open  upon  us  everywhere  ;  and  this  petition,  therefore, 
should  always  rise  from  our  hearts  But  two  or  three 
special  truths  are  suggested  by  this  fact  upon  which  I 
would  dwell,  in  closing. 

First,  then  I  observe,  that  temptation,  of  course,  will 
always  assail  our  weak  point.  Temptation  cannot  exist 
without  the  concurrence  of  inclination  and  opportunity. 
If  we  are  ever  so  much  inclined  to  do  evil  and  have  not 
the  means,  we  are  not  tempted.  If  we  are  surrounded 
with  facilities  and  have  not  the  will  we  are  not  tempted. 
No  doubt  a  great  deal  that  is  called  virtue  is  of  this  neg- 


154  LEAD    US    NOT    INTO    TEMPTATION. 

ative  sort.  Men  are  innocent  of  particular  sins  because 
they  are  not  attracted  to  those  sins.  But  do  they  resist 
those  to  which  they  are  attracted  ?  Are  they  loyal  to 
righteousness  when  both  desire  and  occasion  conspii'e 
against  it  ?  This  is  the  test  of  virtue.  A  man  may 
spurn  evil  suggestions  ninety-nine  times,  and  yield  upon 
the  hundredth,  because  that  jumps  exactly  with  his  in- 
clination. And  that  is  the  point  where  he  will  begin  to 
parley  with  conscience,  to  hunt  up  compromises,  to  invent 
sophistical  excuses.  He  will  endeavor  to  make  out  that 
the  evil  is  not  evil — or  that  the  circumstances  which 
now  beset  him  are  different  from  those  that  have  entan- 
gled other  men — or  that  the  end  is  good  though  the  means 
are  a  little  oblique.  All  shows  that  now  he  is  really 
tempted.  All  this  calls  upon  him  to  pray — "  Abandon 
us  not  to  temptation."  Of  course,  the  struggle  which 
rent  the  soul  of  the  premeditating  murderer  would  never 
trouble  him ;  because  he  had  no  disposition  to  murder. 
He  might  dismiss  the  suggestion  of  fraud,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  for  fear  of  detection.  The  opportunity  was  not 
clear.  But  now  upon  some  different  point,  he  is  tried. 
Whatever  the  form  of  temptation,  then,  it  exists  only 
when  circumstances  and  inclination  combine,  and  it  will 
not  assail  the  fortified  but  the  weak  point  of  your  virtue. 
It  will  come  where  least  expected,  and  your  very  lack 
of  suspicion,  your  very  self-confidence,  may  be  its  in- 


LEAD  US   NOT  INTO   TEMPTATION.  155 

strument.  But  wherever  the  evil  wrestles  with  the  good, 
be  the  strife  ever  so  sfecret  and  personal,  then  you  have 
need  of  the  petition  in  the  text. 

I  observe,  in  the  next  place,  that  every  man  has  his 
peculiar  temptation.  One  condition  in  life  is  really  no 
more  exposed  than  another.  Yet,  are  we  not  apt  to 
think  otherwise  1  We  may  imagine  that  our  condition  is 
one  of  special  trial,  and  that  if  we  could  only  occupy  our 
neighbor's  sphere  we  should  live  better  lives.  This  is  all 
delusion.  Our  peculiar  trials  may  not  perplex  the  other, 
nor  would  his  plague  us ;  but,  in  his  own  situation 
each  finds  keen  tests  of  virtue  incident  to  that  situ- 
ation. The  rich  man  has  his  temptations.  Wrapped 
round  with  ease,  and  ministered  to  by  obsequious  circum- 
stances, he  is  tempted  to  forget  his  dependence  upon  Di- 
vine help,  to  waste  his  life  in  splendid  idleness,  to  weak- 
en his  soul  with  luxury  and  become  confirmed  in  pride. 
He  contemplates  the  robust  health  and  diligent  industry 
of  the  poor  man,  and,  in  a  fit  of  sentimental  regret,  sighs 
for  the  safeguards  of  his  condition.  But  were  he  actually 
to  change  places  with  the  other  and  adopt  his  experience, 
he  would  learn  that  poverty  has  its  temptations  also. 
He  would  feel  its  fretful  cares,  its  gloomy  distrusts,  its 
sense  of  weakness;  and,  too  often,  its  social  bitterness, 
its  vulgar  selfishness,  and  its  coarse  pleasures.  Then  he 
would  understand  how  it  was  that  the  poor  man  used  to 


156  LEAD  US   NOT   INTO  TEMPTATION. 

look  up  to  his  estate,  and  sigh  not  merely  for  its  material 
advantages,  but  for  its  freedom  from  evil  suggestions. 
He  would  understand  how  it  was  that  the  poor  man  did 
not  lay  the  blame  of  his  sins  where  he  should,  upon 
himself,  but  upon  his  circumstances.  So  has  the  busy 
man  of  the  world  his  peculiar  temptations,  his  perplexing 
cares,  his  close,  hot  contacts  with  evil.  So  has  the 
scholar  his  doubts  and  morbid  suggestions.  So  has  each 
man,  I  repeat,  his  own  spiritual  trials,  so  are  all  condi- 
tions pregnant  with  temptation,  and  if  in  either  of  these 
we  fall  the  guilt  is  in  ourselves  ;  if  in  either  of  these  we 
stand  that  victory  is  the  noblest  result  we  are  permitted 
to  achieve. 

Once  more ;  let  us  consider  the  instruction  and  tha 
help  which  we  derive  from  the  fact  that  the  personal  his- 
tory of  Christ  himself  is,  in  respect  to  temptation,  re- 
presentative of  our  own.  It  is  so,  because,  although  he 
committed  no  sin,  he  was  tempted  as  we  are.  But  more 
than  this — he  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are. 
And  we  shall  find,  I  think,  that  the  three  attempts  upon 
his  spiritual  integrity,  were  in  the  three  grades,  or  spheres, 
in  which  temptation  assails  us.  Each  temptation  touch- 
ed a  different  point  in  his  condition ;  and,  although 
the  specific  forms  of  our  trial  are  innumerable,  they 
may  all  be  generalized  in  three  great  classes. 

The  first  appeal  of  evil  to  the  Savior,  was  a  sugges 


LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION.  157 

tion  to  appetite.  Hungering  as  he  was,  it  said  to  him 
— "  Command  that  these  stones  he  made  bread."  "  Ex- 
ert your  miraculous  powers  for  the  gratification  of  your 
bodily  wants."  My  friends,  although  the  personages  are 
far  different,  and  there  are  no  supernatural  powers  ap- 
pealed to,  is  not  this  the  general  character  of  the  first 
great  temptation  that  salutes  us  ?  It  is  the  lowest  in 
our  spiritual  discipline,  yet  it  is,  perhaps,  the  most  com- 
mon of  all.  Evil  addresses  us  first  in  our  sensual  be- 
ing. It  urges  us  to  live  merely  as  sensual  creatures,  to 
debase  our  higher  nature,  to  pervert  our  nobler  powers, 
in  the  gratification  of  animal  lusts.  Is  not  this  one 
great  circle  of  evil,  one  radical  principle,  out  of  which 
spring  innumerable  sins  ?  And  is  not  this  the  life  that 
multitudes  are  really  living  ?  Fools  of  passion,  slaves 
of  sense,  discrowned  heirs  of  immortality,  casting  them- 
selves into  the  kennel  and  the  mire !  And  is  not  this, 
as  it  were,  a  perversion  of  miraculous  powers  to  mean 
uses  ?  If  we  look  with  spiritual  discernment  upon  the 
drunkard's  bloated  face,  the  libertine's  jaded  eye,  the  epi- 
cure's disease  and  agony,  is  it  not  the  most  melancholy 
thought  of  all,  that  a  man,  made  to  walk  erect  in  the 
glory  of  his  undying  nature,  should  thus  reel  under  the 
weight  and  decrepitude  of  vice — that  he  should  thus 
seal  up  those  springs  of  spiritual  power,  and  waste  that 

wealth  of  intellect,  and  paralvze  that  moral  freedom — 
14 


158  LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

that  with  the  infinite  heaven  of  light  and  love  spread  all 
around  him,  he  should  thus  shut  himself  in  to  darkness 
and  corruption  ?  Is  there  not  need  for  him,  is  there  not 
often  need  for  us,  to  say  as  the  Master  said — '■  Man  shall 
not  live  by  bread  alone  " — does  not  draw  his  whole  life 
from  sensual  and  outward  things,  possesses  not  merely  a 
sensual  and  outward  life — "  Man  shall  not  live  by  bread 
alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God." 

Jesus  was  next  tempted  to  cast  himself  from  a  pinna- 
cle of  the  temple,  relying  upon  his  personal  consequence 
for  supernatural  help.  When  we  take  away  the  acces- 
sories of  this  scene,  it  really  resolves  itself  into  an  appeal 
to  selfishness.  The  Tempter  said,  virtually, — "  Do  as 
you  will,  the  whole  universe  is  for  you,  and  will  serve 
you."  And  is  not  the  excitement  of  self-consequence 
the  second  order  of  temptation  in  our  spiritual  expe- 
rience ?  We  have  risen  then  above  the  commission  of 
gross  vices  because  they  injure  ourselves  ;  and  this  mo- 
tive is  the  main-spring  of  all  our  negative  virtue.  We 
do  this  or  that  good  act,  because  it  benefits  ourselves ; 
and  this  motive  will  account  for  all  our  positive  virtue. 
And  so,  in  this  spiritual  sphere,  our  whole  existence  is 
the  current  of  a  selfish  aim,  and  all  our  endeavor  is  for 
selfish  ends.  We  live  as  though  the  powers  of  nature 
were  ordained  solely  for  ourselves ;  were  merely  to  pam- 


LEAD  US   NOT   INTO  TEiVirTATION.  159 

per  and  to  serve  us.  We  forget  our  relations  to  the  rest 
— our  stewardship  as  recipients  of  a  common  bounty — 
and  so,  if  we  are  only  happy  and  safe,  we  think  not  what 
our  life  is  to  others,  we  heed  not  their  claims  upon  our 
sympathy  and  our  service,  we  care  for  nothing  but  self. 
If  we  indulge  in  a  luxury  we  think  not  that  our  present 
practice  may  induce  moral  death  for  our  neighbor.  What 
of  him?  If  we  are  curtained  about  with  comfort,  we 
feel  not  that  while  we  sleep  he  bleeds  and  perishes. 
What  is  that  to  us  ?  Upon  our  pinnacle  of  self-will  and 
vanity,  we  would,  if  we  could,  command  the  very  laws 
of  nature  to  bear  us  up,  without  regard  to  the  general 
damage.  Often,  therefore,  do  we  need  to  say  to  our  hard 
and  close-locked  souls — "  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord 
thy  God." 

The  Tempter's  last  appeal  was  to  ambition.  "All 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  will  I  give  thee,  if  thou  wilt 
fall  down  and  worship  me."  And  the  highest  grade  of 
temptation  in  us,  is  connected  with  some  earnest  pur- 
pose, some  intense,  all-absorbing  desire,  to  which  we  will 
sacrifice  even  the  most  sacred  claims.  This  evil  of  am- 
bition Milton  has  styled — 

"  The  last  iufirmity  of  noble  minds." 

It  is  the  source  of  those  rarer  and  graver  errors  which 
appear  in  personal  history.  I  say  rarer,  because  they 
are  generally  exhibited  by  men  of  peculiar  energy  and 


160  LEAD  US   NOT  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

peculiar  worth.  Such  are  far  above  the  debasement  of 
appetite,  and  although  selfishness  may  mingle  with  their 
purpose,  as  it  does  with  all  wrong,  that  purpose  is  not 
inconsistent  with  many  noble  traits.  But  that  purpose 
is  also  exclusive  and  uncompromising.  It  sets  up  its 
own  object  as  the  highest  of  all  standards.  It  protrudes 
its  own  aim  beyond  all  lawful  limits.  Hence  men  who 
would  ordinarily  spurn  the  wrong,  when  once  the  object 
of  this  intense  desire  glitters  before  them  will  thrust 
aside  all  sanctions,  and  serve  even  Satan  to  obtain  it. 
Suppose,  for  instance,  that  a  man  sets  his  heart  upon 
wealth.  This  is  a  lawful  pursuit  within  due  bounds,  but 
he  makes  it  the  main  end  of  life.  Fond  as  he  is  of  vir- 
tue in  the  ideal,  nay  practically  honoring  it  in  many 
points  of  his  conduct,  suppose  that,  to  accomplish  his 
purpose,  one  obstacle  and  only  one  stands  in  the  way — 
but  that  involves  truth,  justice,  virtue.  Will  not  a  con- 
flict rise  then  in  his  soul  ?  Will  not  temptation  press 
him  with  a  keen  edge  ?  Will  he  not  labor  to  transform 
Satan  into  an  angel  of  light  that  he  may  worship  him  ? 

If  you  would  discover  this  kind  of  temptation  operat- 
ing in  another  form,  you  may  behold  a  man  of  many  rare 
qualities,  become  even  a  Napoleon  in  his  single  thirst  for 
power.  When  the  master  desire  is  loose,  what  are  burn- 
ing cities,  sacked  dwellings,  heaps  of  dead  ?  Over  all  he 
looks  straight  to  his  object.     He  rides  through  the  earth 


LEAD   US   NOT  INTO   TEMPTATION.  161 

upon  the  pale  horse  of  Death,  its  mane  dripping  blood. 
So,  in  a  narrower  scale,  often,  exists  the  same  master 
passion.  It  burns  in  the  bosoms  of  many  who  are  neither 
vicious,  nor  merely  selfish  men.  They  thirst  perhaps  for 
the  triumph  of  a  sect,  or  a  measure,  or  an  opinion.  Yes, 
this  desire  steals  even  into  the  calm  atmosphere  of  the 
intellectual  world.  Even  the  so-called  Truth-seeker,  the 
professed  disciple  of  "  the  first  good  and  first  fair,"  yields 
to  its  insinuations.  How  many  inducements  bribe  him 
to  shrink  from  the  reality,  to  balk  honest  deductions,  to 
forget  his  allegiance  to  the  truth,  to  wrap  himself  in  the 
mantle  of  pride,  to  swing  into  the  dark  gulf  of  skepticism ! 
In  clinging  ta  his  self-confident  wisdom,  may  he  not  let 
go  humility  ?  In  climbing  the  dizzy  heights  of  knowl- 
edge, may  he  not  reject  the  necessary  help  of  faith  ? 

But,  whatever  the  shape  of  this  temptation,  it  is  the 
last  and  mightest,  and  therefore,  to  conquer  it,  we  must 
take  refuge  in  the  last  and  mightiest  power  against  all 
evil.  We  must  "  worship  the  Lord  our  God,  and  Him 
only  must  we  serve." 

These,  then,  are  the  radical  spheres  of  temptation,  out 
of  which  its  ripe  and  multiform  suggestions  grow.  And 
its  force  is  victorious  over  us  because  we  live  only  in 
ourselves  and  in  immediate  circumstances.  We  live 
impulsively,  driven  by  appetite  ;  we  live  subjectively, 
narrowing  and  drawing  all  things  down  to  self;  we  live 


162  LEAD   US   NOT   INTO   TEMPTATION. 

objectively,  throwing  away  all  things,  even  ourselves,  to 
obtain,  what  is,  after  all,  a  secondary  good.  Let  us,  then, 
obey  a  higher  law  than  lust.  Let  us  look  beyond  our- 
selves. Let  us  bring  the  truth  of  God  and  of  our 
own  duty  into  relation  with  all  we  do.  Let  us  rejoice, 
too,  that  we  have  not  only  the  example  of  the  Redeem- 
er's struggles,  but  of  his  victory,  and  let  us  apply  for  his 
spirit.  Let  us  implore  the  all-sufficient  help  of  his  Father 
and  our  Father — let  us  cry  to  Him  in  every  time  of 
moral  need — "Lead  us  not  into  temptation  !" 


DISCOURSE    VIII. 


"  But  deliver  us  from  tvil." — Matthew  vi :  13. 

This  is  a  spontaneous  and  universal  petition.  It  is 
incident  to  every  condition  of  human  life.  In  one  way 
or  another  it  rises  from  every  heart.  Perhaps  too  it  is 
the  earliest  of  prayers.  For,  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  the  desire  for  good  is  not  first  expressed  by  this 
deprecation  of  evil ;  whether  man  does  not  feel  what  he 
suffers  before  he  knows  what  he  wants  ;  whether  he  does 
not  struggle  against  the  real  before  he  perceives  the 
ideal.  Is  not  that  sense  of  dependence,  for  instance, 
which  induces  all  supplication,  a  sense  of  weakness  ?  Is 
not  the  common  cry — "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread," 
forced  out  by  the  pressure  of  necessity  ?  Is  not — "  For- 
give us  our  debts,"  the  entreaty  of  a  sharp  remorse  ? 

But,  if  not  older,  at  least  as  old  and  as  extensive  as 
the  desire  for  any  good  thing,  is  this  prayer — '•  Deliver 
us  from  evil."  It  has  been  lifted  up  in  all  ages  of  ihe 
world,  and  wherever  there  is  a  consciousness  of  evil  it 
rises  against  that  evil.     Against  the  earthquake  and  the 


164  DELIVER  US   FROM  EVIL. 

tornado,  against  desolating  flood  and  untimely  frost, 
against  conflagration  and  pestilence,  against  accident, 
disease,  and  death.  The  savage  addresses  it  to  his  fe- 
tish, and  the  christian  to  his  God.  The  devout  man 
breathes  it  ere  he  goes  among  the  unknown  mischiefs 
and  teeming  possibilities  of  the  day,  or  lies  down  to  sleep 
with  night  and  God  around  him.  The  sinner,  in  the 
shock  of  retribution  deliriously  shouts  it  to  the  Being 
-whom  he  has  so  long  forgotten.  It  is  the  child's  prayer, 
who  can  picture  the  infinite  Love  only  by  images  of  pa- 
rental affection,  and  who  shrinks  into  that  from  a  vague 
and  chilling  terror.  It  is  the  old  man's  petition  who  feels 
the  props  of  life  dropping  away,  and  who  fears  lest 
second  childhood  should  paralyze  the  faith  of  the  first. 
It  trembles  upon  the  lips  of  youth  just  setting  out  to  its 
venture.  It  yearns  in  the  bosom  of  manhood,  wrestling 
with  difficulty  and  gathering  its  sheaves  in  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day.  Pitched  in  every  key  of  distress, 
yet  beating  with  one  common  undertone,  from  human 
hearts  all  round  the  earth,  rises  this  great  psalm  of  sup- 
plication. 

I  have  separated  the  words  of  the  text,  then,  from 
those  which  formed  the  subject  of  the  last  discourse,  be- 
cause, although  they  are  closely  connected,  each  is  capa- 
ble of  a  different  signification  from  the  other.  The 
desire — "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,"  implies  that  the 


DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL.  165 

ouppliant  has  some  knowledge  of  himself  and  of  moral 
relations  ;  it  indicates  some  depth  of  spiritual  experience. 
The  desire — "  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  as  I  have  just  said, 
is  spontaneous.  When  we  say — "  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,"  we  pray  especially  against  ourselves,  against 
the  traitor  within  us.  When  we  say — "  Deliver  us 
from  evil,"  we  pray  against  foreign  ills  also ;  against 
afflictions,  against  injuries  that  come  without  our  own 
agency.  Perhaps,  we  may  say  indeed,  that  one  clause 
is  the  converse  of  the  other.  That  one  petition  is  ana- 
lytic, and  suggests  the  radical  spring,  the  substantial 
reality  of  all  evil ;  while  the  other  is  synthetic,  and  re- 
fers to  evil  in  its  various  phases  and  modifications. 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,"  is  a  prayer  breathed  in 
the  silence  of  introspection ;  "  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  is 
a  prayer  that  breaks  out  in  actual  contact  and  sufiering, 
in  effort,  and  fear,  and  hope. 

These  are  the  reasons  why  I  have  set  the  text  as  a 
topic  by  itself.  Let  us  now  attend  to  some  of  the  spe- 
cific considerations  which  it  suggests.  Let  us  see  what 
this  prayer — "  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  implies  ;  the  state 
of  mind  and  the  conduct  with  which  it  is  consistent. 

L  It  implies  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  what  we 
usually  term  evil  is  evil.  He  who  taught  us  to  breathe 
this  prayer  did  not  inculcate  Stoicism.  His  ideal  of 
virtue  was  not  a  contemptuous  endurance,  too  proud  to 


166  DELIVER  US  FROM  EVIL. 

stoop  to  calamity  or  to  confess  suffering.  His  religion 
does  not  seek  to  deaden  our  emotions,  and  to  harden  our 
fibres  into  rock.  It  acknowledges  our  humanity.  It 
justifies  our  sensitiveness  to  pain  and  loss.  Indeed,  the 
harshness  and  isolation  in  the  character  of  the  Stoic, 
do  not  comport  with  the  character  of  the  Christian. 
The  unflinching,  impenetrable  man  is  not  lovely.  Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  can  he  love  much.  For,  ere  he  could 
acquire  this  calm  insensibility,  he  must  curdle  all  the 
genial  flow  of  his  nature.  He  must  break  many  affini- 
ties which  connect  him  with  his  race.  He  must  not  only 
cauterize  his  own  wounds,  but  destroy  the  very  springs 
of  sympathy.  By  killing  the  nerves  of  feeling,  he  not 
only  suspends  that  mysterious  ordinance  by  which  our 
sharpest  sufferings  are  involved  with  our  richest  enjoy- 
ments, but  he  cuts  himself  loose  from  the  experiences 
of  our  humanity.  He  cannot  respond  to  its  emotions, 
nor  understand  its  sentiments.  He  cannot  mix  with  it 
in  pity,  and  charity,  and  mutual  help.  The  man  of  large 
love  is  always  the  man  of  deep  sensibility.  The  man 
of  broad  and  genial  wisdom  is  a  man  controllable  by 
human  affections,  and  whose  nature,  at  a  thousand 
points,  feels  and  shrinks  from  suffering.  Nor  is  this 
sentiment  inconsistent  wiih  the  virtues  of  moral  heroism 
and  patience.  Moral  heroism  is  a  different  thing  from 
philosophical  contempt.     It  appears  in  resistance  and  in 


DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL.  167 

Struggling,  and  while  it  is  victorious  over  evil  it  denotes 
a  keen  appreciation  of  it.  Patience  is  something  more 
than  physical  endurance ;  it  is  spiritual  resignation.  It 
is  not  self-sufficiency,  but  filial  reliance.  It  includes  the 
feeling  as  well  as  the  bearing  of  evil,  and  its  essential 
excellence  consists  in  this  fact.  While,  beneath  the 
light  of  God's  countenance,  its  aspect  is  calm  as  the 
stilled  waters  of  Galilee,  its  depths  are  yet  tremulous 
with  the  agitation  of  the  storm.  I  repeat,  then,  Chris- 
tianity is  not  stoicism.  But  its  rarest  qualities,  instead 
of  indicating  a  stern  insensibility  to  evil,  grow  out  of  a 
vivid  realization  of  it. 

I  remark  moreover  that  the  system  to  which  the  sen- 
timent of  the  text  belongs,  does  not  perplex  our  percep- 
tion of  evil.  I  mean  by  this,  that  Christianity  gives  us 
no  hint  that  evil  is  only  apparent — the  reverse  side  of  a 
fact  the  obverse  of  which  is  good — the  unsubstantial 
shadow  of  a  blessed  purpose,  hideous  to  our  limited 
vision,  but  beautiful  in  the  all-comprehending  sight  of 
God.  This  idea,  therefore,  at  the  strongest,  is  but  a  sur- 
mise, and,  as  I  think,  it  is  not  a  reasonable  surmise.  So 
far  as  circumstantial  ills  and  bodily  afflictions  are  con- 
cerned, such  as  poverty,  disease,  pain,  death,  I  admit  the 
blessed  ends  which  they  often  serve.  I  would  not  deny 
the  great  fact  that  such  evil  is  disciplinary — that  good 
evolves  from  it.     But,    surely,  the   good   result  is  not 


168  DELIVER   US   FROM   EVIL. 

identical  with  the  evil  agent.  Nor  can  I  conceive  that, 
from  any  point  of  view,  the  latter  will  be  entitled  to 
share  the  epithets  of  the  former,  or  will  change  its  ap- 
parent character.  Rather  may  we  believe  that  it  accom- 
plishes its  disciplinary  work,  because  it  is  essentially 
evil.  Its  intrinsic  smart  and  sting  constitute  the  very 
trial  by  which  the  human  spirit  is  refined. 

But,  however  we  may  regard  these  physical  and 
earthly  ills,  much  more  objectionable  is  the  notion  I  am 
now  alluding  to,  in  its  application  to  moral  evil — the  no- 
tion that  sin  is  one  thing  to  man  and  another  thing  in 
the  sight  of  God ;  that,  as  it  revolves  through  the  depths 
of  our  consciousness,  it  \?,.  wrong,  but,  as  it  turns  in  the 
light  of  his  Omniscience,  it  is  right.  I  cannot  believe 
there  is  any  such  oblique  puzzle  in  the  universe;  that 
there  is  any  such  ambiguity  in  the  nature  and  the  de- 
clarations of  the  Infinite  One ;  but  that  moral  evil  is 
evil,  above,  and  beneath,  and  to  the  core.  If  it  is  in  any 
sense  good,  how  could  we  pray  to  be  delivered  from  it  ? 
It  cannot  be,  then,  that  it  is  God's  disguised  servant. 
It  is  His  open  enemy.  He  does  not  work  with  it,  but 
against  it.  He  calls  upon  man  to  hate  it,  to  resist  it, 
to  lift  up  his  heart  and  voice  against  it — and  He  will 
be  near  to  help. 

The  prayer  of  the  text,  then,  implies  the  recognition 
of  essential  evil.     Suffering  by  it  as  we  do,  it  is  right  to 


DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL.  169 

pray  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  it.  It  is  right  to 
pray  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  physical  and  earthly 
woes.  Such  a  prayer  does  not  indicate  ignorance  of 
the  good  result  which  these  evils  serve.  It  is  not  a  mur- 
muring against  the  will  of  God.  It  is  simply  the  shrink- 
ing of  our  human  nature  from  actual  suffering  and  in- 
jury— an  earnest  and  filial  desire,  if  it  be  God's  pleasure, 
that  these  ills  may  be  removed,  or  may  not  come.  It  is 
not  for  man  to  choose  the  path  through  which  his  Father 
shall  lead  him,  but  if,  peradventure,  that  Father  would 
ordain  otherwise,  he  desires  it  may  be  so.  At  any  rate, 
these  woes  oppress  and  hurt  him,  and  he  beats  against 
them  until  he  knows  what  the  Supreme  Will  is.  He 
does  not  recognize  them  as  intrinsically  otherwise  than 
evil,  and  deems  it  not  wrong  to  ask  deliverance  from 
them.  Ouu  common  afflictions  are  treated  as  evils  by 
the  great  Redeemer,  and  he  pitied  and  removed  them  as 
such.  His  miracles  were  miracles  of  relief  from  earthly 
and  bodily  ills  ;  they  answered  and  thus  sanctioned  the 
prayers  lifted  against  these  ills.  He  mingled  his  sympa- 
thy with  our  human  desires  when  he  touched  the  blind 
eye,  and  the  withered  limb..  He  justified  our  prayers 
for  rescue  from  sickness,  when  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  fevered  brow.  He  showed  that  it  is  not  wrong  to 
cry  out  against  hunger,  when  he  fed    the  five  thousand. 

He  made  it  proper  for  us  to  supplicate  deliverance  from 

15 


170  DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL. 

the  elements,  when  he  stilled  the  wind  and  subdued  the 
angry  waters.  And  he  consecrated  our  household  af- 
fections that  dread  the  death  of  the  beloved  ;  that  will 
weep  over  their  pale  faces  and  bleed  when  we  lay  them 
away;  he  consecrated  these  feelings  w^hen  he  restored 
Jairus'  daughter  and  the  widow's  son.  More  than  all, 
we  cannot  forget  that  he  himself  wrestled  in  the  gloom 
of  the  garden,  and  prayed  that  the  cup  might  be  taken 
from  his  lips.  I  repeat,  then,  it  is  right,  in  the  loneliness 
of  our  closets  and  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation,  in 
the  family  circle,  on  the  land  and  on  the  sea,  to  pray 
against  these  earthly  ills — against  poverty,  disease,  acci- 
dent, and  all  that  hurts  us. 

But  let  me  say,  that  especially  is  this  a  prayer  against 
moral  evil.  It  is  so  in  the  connection  in  which  it  stands 
with  the  petition  against  temptation,  and  by  the  proper 
rendering  of  the  text,  which  is — "  Deliver  us  from  the 
evil  one.''  "  Deliver  us  from  the  principle  of  evil ;  from 
all  sin  and  wrong,  in  whatever  shape  it  comes."  He 
who  sincerely  breathes  this  prayer,  is  penetrated  by  a 
profound  conviction  of  the  extent  of  vice,  crime,  false- 
hood, and  all  forms  of  iniqility.  He  sees  this  evil  prin- 
ciple circulating  through  all  the  veins  of  the  world — in 
institutions  and  governments,  in  customs  and  religions, 
m  communities  and  individuals,  and,  especially,  imbed- 
ded in  his  own  heart,  clinging  to  his  own  inner  nature. 


DELIVER  US  FROM  EVIL.  171 

Thus  beholding  with  a  comprehensive  and  intense  vision, 
he  prays — "  Dehver  us  from  evil."  No  doubt  this  kind 
of  evil  eclipses  all  others,  and  it  is  this,  therefore,  that 
I  shall  generally  refer  to  in  the  remainder  of  this  dis- 
course. 

II.  I  proceed  to  remark  that  we  do  not  practically 
apply  this  prayer  by  wholly  abstracting  ourselves  from 
evil.  There  have  been  those  in  the  world  who  have 
reasoned  thus  ; — "  Here,"  said  they,  "is  the  gi*eat  fact  of 
evil.  It  seems  inherent  in  our  mortal  condition.  It  is 
inseparable  from  human  nature  and  earthly  circumstan- 
ces. It  encounters  us  wherever  we  go.  It  entangles 
us  at  every  step.  It  meets  us  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left.  It  stirs  in  the  suggestions  of  appetite.  It  be- 
trays us  in  our  emotions.  It  is  subtly  involved  with  our 
affections.  It  taints  and  biasses  our  will.  It  bribes  our 
reason.  It  is  in  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  pride  of  the 
eye,  and  the  pride  of  life.  How,  then,  shall  we  treat 
this  fact?  How  shall  we  act  concerning  it?"  Their 
answer  has  been  ; — "We  must,  as  far  as  possible,  close 
up  all  the  avenues  through  which  it  suggests  itself  We 
must  retire  from  the  outward  world,  shut  ourselves  in 
cloisters,  mortify  these  fleshly  powers,  and,  as  far  as 
possible,  abandon  the  earth,  rise  above  it  by  meditation 
and  ecstasy."  Such  ideas  as  these  have  by  no  means 
been  rare  in  the  world.     Those  who  have  acted  strictly 


172  DELIVER   US  FROM  EVIL. 

upon  them  have  been  numerous  and  influential  in  the 
Christian  Church.     But  I  presume  none  who  now  hear 
me    are   likely   to    adopt  these  notions    literally ;  and  I 
would  observe,  therefore,  that,  in  a  modified  form,  they 
may  be  and  are  quite  prevalent.     At  least  two  separate 
notions  composing  the   main  idea  now  alluded  to  are 
quite  prevalent.     The  one,  is  that  there  is  nothing  but 
evil  in  our  earthly  circumstances  ;  and  the  other,  is  the 
idea  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  contend  with  that  evil.     The 
name  applied  to  this  system  in  its  combined  and  literal 
form  is  Mysticism,  and  adapting  the  same  name  to  these 
separate  phases,   I  observe  that  mysticism   is  no  more 
sanctioned  by   Christianity  than  stoicism.     In  the  first 
place,  it  is  not  true  that  there  is  nothing  but  evil  in  the 
circumstances  of  the  flesh  and  the  world.     I  allude  es- 
pecially now  to  moral  evil ;  for  no  man   will  deny  the 
physical  good  involved  in  these.     As  to  our  sensual  af- 
fections, then,  I  would  say  that  they  are  to  be  kept  in 
their  proper  sphere ;  they  are  to  be  resisted  when  they 
break  beyond  it ;  but  no  doubt  they  have  a  proper  sphere. 
In  that  sphere,   if  they  possess  no  character  of  moral 
goodness,  they  are   not  intrinsically  evil.     But  we  may 
give  them  an  evil  ascendency  as  much  when  we  submit 
them  to  a  minute  scrutiny  and  vigilance,   as  when  we 
serve  them  in  blind  indulgence.     Nor  let  us,  in  any  de- 
gree, cherish  the  Manichean  heresy  that   the  outward 


DELIVER  US   FROM  EVIL.  173 

w^orld,  that  matter,  is  intrinsically  vile.  In  itself,  it  is 
God's  creation — the  theatre  of  His  marvellous  works, 
the  temple  of  His  all-pervading  spirit.  It  bears  the  im- 
press of  His  hand,  it  glows  with  divine  beauty,  it  is  the 
varied  mold  of  His  thought.  What  it  becomes  to  us, 
depends  upon  what  we  are  in  ourselves.  It  may  in- 
flame our  passions  and  deceive  our  judgment.  It  may  be 
the  arena  of  our  lust  and  our  hate.  It  may  be  the  end 
of  our  desires.  It  may  be  the  sarcophagus  of  our  souls. 
But,  to  the  good  heart  and  the  clear  mind,  it  is  a  teacher 
of  the  most  sacred  wisdom,  and  an  opportunity  for  the 
noblest  labor.  Such  an  one  diligently  pursuing  the  ca- 
reer of  duty,  finds  glorious  instruction  upon  its  unrolled 
pages,  and  innumerable  helpers  in  its  various  instru- 
ments. 

In  truth,  moral  evil  is  in  the  soul ;  in  its  attributes  and 
affections ;  not  in  things  without,  not  in  the  body  or  the 
world.  If  we  shut  up  the  portals  of  sense,  we  are  still 
accessible  to  sin.  If  we  build  monastic  walls  as  high  as 
the  firmament  between  ourselves  and  the  outward  world, 
still,  the  tempter  and  the  snare  are  within  us — in  our 
thoughts,  in  our  prayers,  in  our  visions  of  heaven.  No 
doubt,  bad  suggestions  will  come  to  us  through  the  body. 
No  doubt,  sin  lurks  in  the  street  and  the  field.  But 
where  will  evil  not  intrude  ?  Not  in  shrinking  from  it, 
but  in  contact  with  it,  by  God's  help,  we  can  best  over- 


174  DELIVER  US  FROM  EVIL. 

come  it.  Compelled  to  meet  it  everywhere,  in  that  very- 
encounter  if  we  sincerely  pray — "  Deliver  us  from  evil," 
there  is  an  opportunity  to  weaken  and  to  vanquish  it. 
We  subdue  appetite  not  by  seeking  to  eradicate  it,  but 
by  exercising  holy  ajffections  in  spite  of  it.  Not  in 
shrinking  from  the  world,  but  by  doing  our  duty  in  it, 
do  we  blunt  the  edge  of  its  temptations.  Thus  all  things 
will  help  rather  than  hinder  us,  and  we  shall  be  made 
strong  not  weak,  approved  victors  not  timid  deserters 
from  the  battle  of  life. 

I  have  spoken  of  this  error,  because,  I  repeat,  in  one 
form  or  another  I  believe  it  is  widely  prevalent.  Min- 
gling with  our  religious  feelings  and  theories,  is  the  idea 
that  the  flesh  and  the  world  are  utterly  vile,  that  nature 
is  half-infidel,  that  the  common  air  has  a  taint,  that  so- 
cial relations  are  allurements  from  holiness,  that  all 
earthly  enjoyment  is  compromise  with  sin,  and  that  reli- 
gion, in  fact,  peculiarly  consists  in  the  renunciation  of 
these  and  in  retirement  from  them.  That  this  is  not  a 
practical  application  of  the  prayer — "Deliver  us  from 
evil,"  I  have  yet  farther  to  show  in  the  sequel  of  this 
discourse. 

Upon  the  other  branch  of  Mysticism,  I  shall  speak 
but  briefly  ;  the  idea  that  it  is  of  no  avail  to  contend 
with  evil.  We  may  detect  its  legitimate  conclusions  in 
that  skepticism  which   affirms  the  total  depravity  and 


DELIVER  US  FROM  EVIL.  175 

helplessness  of  the  race,  which  denies  all  progress,  and, 
in  fact,  not  only  deprecates  moral  action,  but  strikes  at 
the  root  of  morality  itself.  We  may  detect  it  also  in 
that  selfish  conservatism  which  pleads  against  any  at- 
tempt at  reform,  and  makes  a  profitable  use  of  its  philo- 
sophy. In  neither  of  these  is  the  doctrine  or  hope  of 
the  petition  contained  in  the  text.  He  who  prays — 
"  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  strives  against  it,  and  believes 
in  the  possibility  of  its  removal. 

III.  I  observe,  again,  that  we  do  not  make  a  practi- 
cal application  of  this  prayer  when  we  live  in  moral  in- 
difference,  when  we  make  no  resistance  to  evil,  but 
habitually  indulge  it.  In  other  words,  if  the  Christian 
idea  is  not  expressed  in  Stoicism,  nor  Mysticism,  it  cer- 
tainly is  not  consistent  with  Epicureanism.  And  in 
this  form  more  than  any  other,  the  petition  is  virtually 
disregarded.  Many  men — are  we  not  compelled  to  say 
most  ? — while  they  shrink  from  physical  ill,  so  far  from 
avoiding  the  contact  of  moral  evil,  live  heedlessly  with 
it  and  in  it.  A  great  portion  of  them  are  not  violent 
sinners.  They  are  not  criminal,  nor  grossly  vicious. 
But  they  are  morally  insensible.  They  have  no  inward 
perception,  no  spiritual  ideal  of  life.  They  do  not  real- 
ize the  claims  of  duty,  the  great  end  of  being,  and  their 
immortal  relations.  The  charmed  circle  of  the  world 
hems  them  around,  and  their  souls   are  entangled  and 


176  DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL. 

absorbed  in  its  realities.  Or  if,  for  a  moment,  the  veil 
of  sense  breaks  away,  and  they  catch  glimpses  of  the 
starry  infinitude  about  them,  it  soon  closes  again,  and 
their  thoughts,  affections,  hopes,  are  all  as  secular  as 
ever.  Now^  this  insensibility  to  spiritual  good,  and,  there- 
fore, to  spiritual  evil,  I  call  Epicureanism.  True,  it  has 
various  aspects.  It  appears  in  the  atheistic  scoffer  and 
the  shrewd  man  of  the  world ;  in  the  voluptuary  and 
the  utilitarian. 

You  might  behold  it  in  one  form,  should  you  pass  to- 
night through  the  streets  of  this  great  city,  and  enter 
its  haunts  of  debauchery,  its  dens  of  shame.  No  doubt, 
you  would  find  there  some  one  to  whom  this  world  is 
but  a  theatre  of  sensual  indulgence ;  whose  only  ideal 
of  good  is  pleasure,  and  that  pleasure  the  evanescent 
thrill  of  animal  enjoyment.  To  whom  this  Sabbath  has 
brought  no  holy  associations,  no  spiritual  opportunities, 
no  auroral  light  of  immortality ;  but  who  has  used  it  as 
a  season  of  vicious  indulgence,  or  a  carnival  of  revelry 
and  lust.  And  this  phase  of  Epicureanism  you  may 
discover  thickly  around  you,  in  degrees  more  or  less  re- 
fined. Under  the  form  of  swinish  excess,  or  the  mask 
of  a  polished  libertinism,  you  may  see  men  who  live  "as 
the  brutes  that  perish ;"  whose  golden  sands  of  life  are 
running  away  in  base  and  frivolous  uses ;  who  hasten  to 
quench  the  suggestions  of  appetite  in  sottish  inebriety, 


DELIVER  US   FROM   EVIL.  177 

or  artfully  prolong  them  that  they  may  tease  satiety  into 
zest ;  to  whom  the  present  is  a  game  of  chance  and  the 
future  a  blank,  the  Bible  a  fable,  and  the  universe  god- 
less ;  to  whom,  perhaps,  even  now,  life's  feast  seems 
about  to  close ;  who  find  the  lights  going  out  and  them- 
selves trembling  with  decay,  yet  who  strain  the  lees  of 
the  tasteless  wine,  and  crown  themselves  with  the  with- 
ered garlands,  and  say  with  a  glee  unnatural  as  laughter 
among  the  tombs — "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
we  die !" 

But,  my  friends,  there  are  other  forms  of  Epicurean- 
ism, and  while  we  shrink  from  it  in-  this  phase,  are  we 
sure  that  we  ourselves  do  not  exhibit  it  in  some  other  ? 
Not  merely  the  gross  sensualist  or  the  skeptical  philo- 
sopher, but,  I  repeat,  the  man  whose  whole  soul  is  bound 
up  in  earthly  interests ;  who  under  many  respectable 
moralities,  and  professions  of  religion  even,  seeks  only  a 
sensual  and  selfish  end ;  who  has  no  communion  with 
God  and  his  own  soul,  or  into  whose  most  sacred  hours 
intrudes  the  jar  and  hum  of  the  world ;  who  has  no 
vigilant  conscience,  no  clear  moral  sense,  no  infinite  as- 
pirations ;  this  man,  also,  is  an  Epicurean.  As  his  con- 
ception of  life  does  not  include  the  highest  good,  he  is 
not  conscious  of  the  profoundest  evil.  He  may  have 
employed  the  prayer  of  the  text  in  a  crisis  of  bodily  suf- 
fering, a  dread  of  some  physical  calamity,  or  with   a 


178  DELIVER   US   FROM   EVIL. 

vague  religious  emotion.  But  it  has  never  sprung  from 
depths  of  spiritual  earnestness  and  agony.  He  has 
never  detected  the  clinging  subtlety  of  sin,  he  has  never 
felt  the  burden  of  guilt,  he  has  never  experienced  the 
fiercest  edge  of  temptation,  or  wrestled  w^ith  it  in  the 
solitude  of  his  own  soul ;  and,  therefore,  the  cry — "  De- 
liver us  from  evil,"  is  not  expressed  by  him  in  its  pro- 
foundest  sense.  Neither  in  this,  nor  in  any  other  degree 
of  Epicureanism,  of  mere  sensual  life,  of  moral  uncon- 
sciousness, can  this  prayer  be  consistently  uttered. 

Yet,  is  it  not  strange  that  men  should  live  so  ?  That 
so  little  consideration  should  be  given  to  our  inward 
being,  and  the  real  end  of  existence  ?  If  the  universe 
in  which  we  are  placed,  if  our  own  natures,  have  any 
high  and  holy  meaning ;  if  the  suggestions  of  truth,  and 
beauty,  and  goodness  that  visit  us  in  our  rarest  moments 
are  not  as  delusive  as  the  phantasms  that  haunt  a  sick 
man's  dream  ;  if  we  are  not  mere  floats  upon  a  dead  sea, 
but  voyagers  upon  an  ever-flowing  river ;  if  we  are  em- 
bosomed in  any  wonder ;  if  the  discipline  of  earth  has 
any  consistent  purpose ;  if  the  pulses  of  another  life 
throb  mysteriously  with  this ;  if  we  are  heirs  of  immor- 
tality, and  not  mere  denizens  of  the  market  and  the 
charnel-house ;  if  the  Bible  fits  any  mood  of  our  joy  or 
sorrow ;  if  the  advent  and  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  make 
any  appeal  to  us ;  then  let  us   throw  off"  this  fettering 


DELIVER   US   FROM   EVIL  179 

and  torpid  w^orldliness ;  let  us  perceive  that  "  spiritual 
interests  are  real  and  supreme  ;"  let  us  pray  to  be  de- 
livered from  this  evil  of  practical  unbelief,  and  then  we 
shall  be  aware  of,  we  shall  strive  against  and  overcome 
all  other  forms  of  evil. 

IV.  If  the  prayer  of  the  text  is  not  consistent  with 
a  stoical  contempt  for  evil,  a  mystical  abstraction  from 
it,  or  an  epicurean  indulgence  in  it,  then  it  comports 
with  a  distinct  recognition  of  it,  a  courageous  contact 
with  it,  and  a  devout  struggle  against  it ;  and  these  ele- 
ments consist  with  the  Christian  idea  of  evil.  He  who 
fully  expresses  the  significance  of  this  petition,  prays 
against  something  which  he  feels  and  acknowledges. 
He  is  not  wrapped  about  with  any  impenetrable  robe  of 
philosophy ;  he  has  not  drugged  his  humanity.  He  con- 
fesses its  liabilities  and  its  wants.  His  flesh  quivers 
with  pain.  He  shrinks  from  the  piercing  wind  and  the 
heat.  He  deprecates  sickness  and  loss,  and  "  the  stings 
and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune."  He  does  not  pre- 
sumptuously confront  death.  He  perceives  the  chasten- 
ing ministry  of  these  ills,  and  when  they  fall  upon  him 
seeks  to  improve  the  discipline ;  but  he  does  not  deny 
their  essential  evil.  While  his  petition  consists  with  a 
clear  recognition  of  his  responsibility,  of  the  work  he 
must  do  in  his  own  behalf,  it  is  mingled  with  faith  in  an 
instant   and  universal   Providence.     While   this  recoil 


180  DELIVER   US   FROM   EVIL. 

from  adversity  is  not  the  expression  of  cov\^ardice,  or  hy- 
pocondria,  it  quickens  in  his  heart  a  large  sympathy  for 
all  other  men,  for  they  are,  like  himself,  weak,  exposed, 
Buffering.  But  chiefly  does  he  pray  against  moral  evil, 
keenly  realizing  its  influence  in  his  own  soul,  and  its 
power  throughout  the  world.  Moreover,  while  he  is 
aware  that  this  most  dreadful  wo  of  all  meets  him  in 
every  part  of  the  world,  springs  a  snare  upon  him  in 
every  opportunity,  and  steals  inio  his  nature  through 
countless  avenues  of  temptation,  he  does  not  seek  to  ex- 
tirpate that  nature  or  to  fence  himself  in  from  that 
world.  But,  rather,  in  the  fields  of  ordinary  life,  in  the 
ever- widening  circle  of  daily  duties,  he  detects  the  agents 
of  his  moral  help,  and  he  prays  for  holy  affections  and 
firm  faith,  that,  wherever  he  encounters  this  manifold 
evil,  he  may  disarm  it,  and  drive  it  away,  and  fill  its 
place  with  blessings.  He  does  not  deny  the  good  there 
is  in  our  human  lot,  and  the  share  we  may  lawfully  have 
in  the  amenities  of  our  lower  estate ;  but  he  leaps  from 
the  laxity  of  self-indulgence,  he  shrinks  from  drowsy 
contact  with  sin,  he  beats  and  strives  against  it  with  the 
energy  of  an  awakened  conscience  and  the  enthusiasm 
of  a  spirtual  aim. 

This,  then,  is  the  idea  of  evil  which  blends  with  the 
Christian's  prayer — this  is  a  general  definition  of  his 
views  and  his  conduct.     But,  as  I  close,  let  me  add  to 


DELIVER  US  FROM  EVIL.  181 

this  description  some  specific  suggestions  which  we  must 
heed  if  we  would  consistently  utter  this  petition.  First 
then,  let  me  distinctly  re-iterate  the  fact  that,  if  we 
would  truly  breathe  this  prayer,  we  must  realize  that 
there  is  a  far  deeper  than  any  earthly  evil.  Let  us  not 
fix  our  ideal  of  happiness  in  the  gratification  of  the  senses, 
in  deliverance  from  temporal  ill.  Let  us  remember  that 
keener  than  poverty  is  barreness  of  soul,  that  richer  than 
houses  and  lands  is  a  spirit  fortified  against  sin.  That 
no  disappointment,  loss,  hunger,  is  like  a  guilty  con- 
science and  an  alienated  heart. 

Again ;  let  not  the  words  before  us  be  the  only  prayer 
we  use.  I  mean  by  this,  let  us  not  apply  to  God  merely 
in  our  adversity  and  our  danger.  How  many  there  are 
who  do  this,  whose  whole  conception  of  Religion  is  that 
of  a  charm  or  rescue,  and  is  associated  only  with  the 
darker  phases  of  human  life !  This  prayer  can  consist- 
ently rise,  not  from  a  frightened,  but  from  an  habitually 
devout  spirit,  from  one  who  utters  and  understands  all  the 
sentiments  of  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Nor,  let  this  prayer  be  with  us  the  language  of  a  pee- 
vish discontent,  or  an  indolent  restlessness.  Let  us  not 
be  too  ready  to  say — "  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  as  the  ex- 
pression of  our  desire  to  escape  from  the  condition  in 
which  we  are  placed.     Let  us  consider  how  much  of  that 

evil  depends  upon  our  own  agency,  and  that  we  shall  be  de- 
16 


182  DELIVER   US   FROM   EVIL. 

livered  from  it  no  where  without  our  own  effort.  That  the 
ruggedness  of  our  lot,  is  the  noblest  opportunity  for  our  en- 
deavor, and  that  the  nature  of  any  circumstances  depends 
much  upon  the  spirit  with  which  we  live  among  them. 

Remember,  again,  that  this  is  a  hopeful  petition. 
This  cry  "Deliver  us  from  evil,"  bursting  from  the  sin- 
cere heart  of  humanity  is  a  call  that  God  hears  and  has 
heard  for  six-thousand  years.  It  has  come  from  saintly 
souls,  from  true  martyrs  and  reformers — and  he  has  heard 
it.  It  is  breathed  in  all  the  efforts  for  human  progress, 
and  he  hears  it.  It  is  a  cry  with  which  the  whole  crea- 
tion groaneth  and  travaileth,  and  he  hears  it.  Howev- 
er independent  our  agency  may  be,  let  us  not  forget  his 
nature  and  the  promise  of  his  help. 

And,  once  more,  let  us  consider  the  fraternal  charac- 
ter of  this  petition.  It  does  not  say — "  Deliver  me,"  but 
"  Deliver  us."  Wherever  we  breathe  it,  then,  whatever 
our  individual  wants,  it  comprehends  with  these  the  needs 
and  the  woes  of  humanity.  Religion  always  lifts  us  up 
from  a  narrow  selfishness  and  carries  us  out  into  the 
universal.  Would  it  not,  I  ask  you,  enlarge  our  thoughts — 
would  it  not  take  us  abroad  from  our  own  joys  and  sorrows, 
would  it  not  quicken  our  sense  of  the  brotherhood  of  the 
race, — to  reflect  from  how  many  postures  of  humanity 
the  cry — "  Deliver  us  from  evil,"  is  this  moment  rising  ? 
Consider  that,  even  as  I  speak,  it  circles  the  round  earih 


DELIVER   US   FROM    EVIL.  183 

and  peals  up  to  heaven  from  churches  and  cathedrals, 
from  sainted  closets  and  family  altars,  from  the  philan- 
thropist over  his  schemes,  from  the  bosom  of  the  tempted, 
from  the  penitent  gush  of  confession,  from  the  sick  man 
scared  by  incongruous  dreams  and  waking  to  the  reality 
of  pain,  from  homes  whence  even  the  Sabbath's  peace 
cannot  exorcise  the  gaunt  face  of  poverty,  from  the  muf- 
fled arteries  of  cities  jarring  with  guilt  and  wo,  from  the 
bleak  wilderness  where  the  traveller  sinks  worn  out  and 
lost,  from  the  ship  where  the  gale  is  straining  the  naked 
masts  and  the  white  waves  dash  to  the  shivering  stars. 
I  ask  would  it  not  lessen  our  own  sorrows,  would  it  not 
quicken  our  sympathy  and  our  diligence,  if  we  should 
breathe  this  prayer  remembering  the  broad  field  and  the 
multiform  evil  about  us,  and  considering  how  many  with 
us  are  lifting  the  same  cry  to  heaven  ? 

But  on  the  other  hand,  let  not  any  expanded  hopes  or 
fraternal  sympathies,  let  not  any  general  application  of 
this  petition,  draw  us  away  from  its  individual  purpose. 
If  we  pray  against  evil  in  the  world  at  large,  let  us  not 
fail  to  seek  its  removal  from  our  own  souls.  If  we  labor 
to  drive  it  from  community,  let  us  strive  to  exorcise  it  from 
our  own  hearts.  For  only  out  of  this  inward,  personal 
salvation,  can  the  wide  circle  of  human  regeneration 
flow.  And  both  by  supplication  and  labor  let  us  exhibit 
the  true  ideal  of  all  prayer.  By  action  and  by  entreaty 
let  us  continually  say — •'  Deliver  us  from  evil." 


DISCOURSE    IX. 


"  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory,  forever.   Amen." 
— Matthew  vi :  13. 

The  authenticity  of  this  Doxology  is  denied  by  the 
best  critics,  and  it  is  not  subjoined  to  the  Lord's  Prayer 
as  found  in  the  Gospel  of  Luke.  It  is  consecrated,  how- 
ever, by  the  most  ancient  usage,  and  has  become  so  in- 
corporated with  the  original  formula  as  to  share  in  all 
its  sacred  associations.  But,  besides  this,  there  is  an  in- 
trinsic harmony  between  the  ascriptions  of  the  text  and 
the  preceding  sentences.  They  fitly  close  the  prayer, 
so  that  it  ends  as  it  begins — with  God.  They  declare 
the  grounds  of  our  supplication,  and  of  our  worship. 
And  although  they  may  express  only  what  has  before 
been  implied,  yet  our  faith  is  strengthened  and  our  de- 
votion made  more  intense  by  this  concentration  of  our 
feelings  and  this  re-collection  of  our  thoughts.  In  ac- 
cordance with  these  suggestions,  I  propose  to  occupy  a 
portion  of  this  discourse   with  a   consideration  of  the 


186  FOR  THINE   IS  THE   KINGDOM, 

words  now  before  us,   and  to  devote  the  remainder  to 
some  concluding  remarks  upon  the  whole  prayer. 

"  For  thine  is  the  Kingdom."  This  is  the  first  as- 
cription. And  it  must  be  the  first,  not  only  here  but  in 
all  circumstances.  It  proclaims  the  great  truth  that 
there  is  in  the  universe  a  perpetual  Authority  and  an 
all-pervading  Control  ;  that  in  the  material  and  the 
spiritual  worlds  nothing  is  at  loose  ends  ;  but  everywhere  . 
there  is  a  sacred  order,  an  intelligible  tendency,  and  a 
fixed  result.  And  this  is  the  dominion  of  the  Infinite 
Creator,  Benefactor,  and  Father. 

His  is  the  Kingdom  of  Nature.  In  Him  is  the  cen- 
tre of  all  its  affinities  and  the  secret  of  its  involutions. 
Upon  Him  depend  all  its  orders  of  being.  He  touches 
its  springs.  From  His  hidden  depths  flows  out  its  uni- 
versal life.  And  after  all  the  uses  to  which  man  can 
compel  it,  after  all  the  knowledge  he  can  obtain  and  all 
the  definitions  he  can  construct,  are  we  not  obliged  to 
say  that  God's  sovereignty  is  the  final  interpretation  of 
nature,  and  that  its  profoundest  manifestations  are  the 
express  witnesses  of  this  ?  What  better  can  we  say 
than  that  "  heaven  is  His  throne,  and  earth  His  foot- 
stool ?"  that  the  laws  of  matter  are  the  stereotyped  pub- 
lications of  His  will.  That  the  pomp  of  the  seasons, 
the  out-goings  of  the  morning  and  the  evening,  the  uni- 
versal flush  of  beauty,   are  the  indefinable  expressions 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLOEY,  FOREVER.  AMEN.   187 

of  His  joy  ?  In  the  catacombs  of  buried  epochs,  in 
hieroglyphics  of  rock,  we  read  the  archives  of  his  soh- 
tary  doings  when  no  man  was  upon  the  earth.  And  as 
we  explore  the  starry  infinitudes  around  us,  as  we  go 
forth  among  worlds  swarming  thicker  than  summer  leaves, 
and  ask — "  Why  this  illimitable  splendor,  this  profusion 
of  being  ?"  what  answer  can  we  obtain  except — "  Such 
is  God's  will  and  way  ?"  These  are  the  shining  vassals 
of  his  purpose,  the  burning  wheels  of  His  continuous 
plan — for  His  is  the  Kingdom. 

His,  too,  is  the  Kingdom  of  the  spiritual  world,  the 
world  of  moral  action,  of  the  individual  soul,  of  all  in- 
telligent beings  from  the  angels  who  cast  their  crowns  at 
His  feet  to  the  child  who  springs  into  life  and  wonder. 
Although  man  hangs  upon  the  poise  of  his  own  moral 
nature,  and  acts  in  the  orbit  of  his  own  free-will,  the 
sphere  of  his  agency  is  not  isolated  from  God.  The  in- 
finite Spirit  that  induces  the  motion  and  quickens  the 
pulses  of  blind  matter,  is  surely  in  communion  with  its 
own  image  and  essence.  In  some  way — we  cannot  pre- 
tend to  know  how — He  harmonizes  our  freedom  with 
His  control.  He  reigns  in  the  individual  soul  also,  by 
the  power  of  motives  and  the  pressure  of  authority ; 
those  motives  being  the  attractions  of  absolute  Goodness, 
and  that  authority  the  sovereignty  of  absolute  Right. 
And  that  which  is  manifest  in  the  individual,  is  manifest 


188  FOR  THINE  IS  THE   KINGDOM, 

in  the  race,  in  its  phases,  and  in  its  whole  career.  In 
the  sanctions  of  law  and  government,  by  which  "  Kings 
reign  and  princes  decree  justice  ;"  in  the  exhibition  of  a 
central  stability  apparent  amid  all  changes  ;  in  the  vin- 
dication of  eternal  principles,  in  the  great  fact  of  human 
progress ;  in  the  silent  and  unconscious  order  into  which 
even  the  most  promiscuous  events  fall;  we  detect  the 
gulf-stream  of  His  Providence,  and  discover  that  God 
reigns  in  history. 

His  Kingdom  is  in  the  physical  and  the  spiritual 
worlds  then.  In  our  grandest  sweeps  of  vision  we  see 
each  of  these  facts,  and  comprehend  the  essential  unity 
of  the  two.  In  the  calm  planet  and  the  falling  sparrow, 
in  the  moral  awards  and  unfolding  mysteries  of  human 
life,  in  the  breaking  waves  of  ages  and  the  crumbling 
of  earthly  thrones,  we  realize  that  there  is  a  universal 
and  eternal  dominion,  and  only  one.  It  is  His  to  whom 
we  say — "  Thine  is  the  Kingdom ;"  deriving  from  that 
truth  both  confidence  to  pray,  and  reasons  to  adore. 

And  His,  also,  is  the  Power.  Possessing  the  domi- 
nion, He  is  able  to  maintain  it.  It  is  His  creation ;  and 
He  who  constructed  the  universe  can  control  its  grand- 
est movements  and  its  minutest  parts.  As  there  is  no 
contingency  beyond  His  forethought,  so  there  is  no  want 
beyond  His  resources.  Through  all  the  channels  of  this 
great  whole  He  pours  continual  sustenance.     The  phe- 


THE  POWER,   AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.     AMEN.       189 

nomenon  of  material  Force  itself,  in  the  last  analysis, 
can  only  be  defined  as  the  immediate  effect  of  His  con- 
tact, the  uncoiling  energy  of  His  will.  And  as,  apart 
from  His  action,  therefore,  we  cannot  form  any  concep- 
tion of  the  essential  character  of  power  and  motion,  we 
recognize  the  sublime  truth  of  the  Hebrew  axiom,  that 
'  Force  is  God."  The  feeling  of  dependence  in  the  soul 
of  every  man  is  a  witness  to  the  same  truth.  Not  only 
does  He  minister  to  all  inferior  things,  but  He  refreshes 
the  springs  of  our  human  agency.  He  gives  us  our 
daily  bread  by  giving  us  the  faculties  to  obtain  it.  He 
is  the  Life  of  all  intellect,  the  Source  of  all  knowledge. 
And  how  often  would  the  soul  perish  in  its  moral  neces- 
sities without  His  succor  and  His  mercy  !  And  while 
this  truth  should  prevent  forgetfulness,  and  keep  us  hum- 
ble, it  should  also  soothe  and  encourage  us.  Does  it  not 
excite  our  devotion  and  strengthen  our  filial  trust,  to 
look  beyond  all  these  circling  forms  of  being  to  the  Al- 
mighty deep  in  which  we  are  embosomed,  to  the  calm 
Omnipotence  that  hems  us  in,  to  that  spring  of  original 
energy  which  gushes  in  the  heart  of  all  things,  and  thus, 
at  the  close  of  a  prayer  in  which  so  many  wants  have 
been  expressed,  to  feel  and  say — "  Oh  God  !  thine  is  the 
Power." 

His  is  the  Glory.     He  who  has  the  Kingdom  and  the 
Power,  exercises  them  for  the  best  ends.     All  that  is 


190  FOR  THINE  IS  THE  KINGDOM, 

needed,  all  that  is  good,  is  His  gift.  Therefore,  let  Him 
have  the  praise.  Let  thanksgiving  crown  our  supplica- 
tion. Let  us  continually  acknowledge  the  benefits  He 
confers.  His  is  the  glory,  of  the  works  He  performs. 
When,  of  old,  Moses  asked  to  see  that  glory.  He  said — 
"  I  will  make  all  my  Goodness  pass  before  thee."  And 
that  exhibition  of  His  glory  is  always  unfolding  to  us. 
His,  too,  is  the  glory  of  His  own  intrinsic  Excellence, 
so  that  they  who  see  Him  the  clearest  glorify  Him 
most.  The  Uncreated  is  illustrated  in  all  His  creation. 
That  which  makes  the  perpetual  noon  of  heaven,  shines 
in  every  ray  of  earth.  That  which  belongs  to  the  In- 
finite Spirit  is  reflected  in  the  soul  of  man.  His  is  the 
glory,  inherent,  original,  and  alone.  Let  us  by  the  fact 
that  this  glory  is  manifested  in  works  of  mercy,  be  en- 
couraged to  ask  what  we  need.  Let  us  rejoice  that  we 
can  become  conscious  of  our  own  spiritual  nature  in  our 
adoration  of  spiritual  Excellence,  in  our  privilege  of 
mingling  our  worship  with  the  sea  of  bliss  and  harmony 
that  rolls  before  His  throne,  and  that,  at  the  close  of  our 
feeble,  earthly  prayer,  we  may  reiterate  the  strain  which 
sweeps  downward  from  heaven  and  fills  the  universe. 
For  we  too  can  say — "Thine  is  the  Glory." 

And,  having  thus  uttered  these  ascriptions,  we  re- 
member that  He  to  whom  we  render  them,  possesses 
these  attributes  eternally.    He  is  the  unchangeable  God. 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.      AMEN.       191 

His  Kingdom  is  a  never-ending  Kingdom.  His  Power 
is  exhaustless.  His  Glory  is  infinite.  In  order  tiiat 
there  may  be  any  consistent  thought  and  action,  it  is 
necessary  that  we  should  have  a  conviction  of  some- 
thing permanent  in  the  universe :  of  everlasting  being 
subsisting  as  the  basis  of  all  these  flying  phenomena. 
In  a  time  like  the  present  especially,  when  all  theories 
are  set  adrift  and  all  questions  agitated,  how  necessary 
is  it  that  we  should  be  convinced  that  there  is  ever- 
lasting Truth.  When  sceptred  authority  is  broken  and 
the  stability  of  all  government  is  shaken  by  the  eager 
rush  of  revolution,  how  much  do  we  need  to  believe  in 
an  immutable  moral  control.  And  while  science  draws 
the  veil  from  the  primeval  earth,  and  shows  us  the  wrecks 
of  successive  epochs,  and  prophecies  the  funeral-pyre  of 
suns  and  systems,  how  sublime  is  it  to  feel  the  beating 
pulses  of  illimitable  Love,  to  confide  in  Him  to  whose 
spirit  we  are  allied,  and  who  will  maintain  us  in  being 
through  all  material  changes.  And  is  it  not  the  bliss  and 
the  miracle  of  prayer,  that  it  lifts  us  away  from  our 
sins,  our  little  cares,  our  teasing  wants,  and  all  the  mu- 
tations of  earth,  and  embosoms  us  in  the  communion  of 
the  Eternal.  Does  it  not  give  strength,  and  meaning, 
and  blessedness  to  our  devotions,  then,  when  we  say — 
"  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
forever."^ 


192  FOR  THINE  IS  THE  KINGDOM, 

And  thus  employing  these  ascriptions  as  reasons  for 
our  devotion,  and  reflecting  their  Ught  back  upon  the 
whole  Prayer  which  we  have  been  considering ;  seeing 
what  we  have  asked,  what  we  have  offered,  and  to 
Whom  our  devotion  has  been  addressed ;  let  it  have  the 
confirmation  of  our  whole  soul — let  us  seal  it  with  our 
solemn  ^^  Amen  /" 

And  that  the  conviction  thus  expressed  may  be  still 
more  clearly  confirmed,  I  pass  to  the  second  division  of 
my  discourse,  for  the  purpose  of  offering  some  general 
remarks  upon  the  whole  Prayer.  I  have  time,  however, 
for  but  two  or  three  specifications,  but  I  earnestly  com- 
mend this  Formula  to  your  own  study,  that  by  familiar- 
ity with  it  you  may  be  able  to  discern  characteristics 
which  I  can  but  imperfectly  suggest,  or  must  leave  un- 
touched. 

I.  I  would  direct  your  attention  to  the  consistency  of 
this  prayer,  to  the  natural  evolution  of  its  sentences.  It 
is  not  a  promiscuous  collection  of  petitions  and  ascrip- 
tions, but  it  is  an  organic  whole.  One  clause  follows 
the  other  in  a  necessary  order.  This  I  have  shown, 
from  time  to  time  during  the  series.  But  it  is  a  fact 
sufficiently  important  to  urge  upon  your  attention 
again,  and  it  is  more  intelligible  when  the  whole  Prayer 
lies  before  us.  I  repeat,  then,  the  succession  of  topics  in 
this  prayer  is  a  natural  one.     It  accords  with  our  spirit- 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   193 

ual  experience.  Of  course  I  do  not  maintain  that  we 
can  never  pray  in  any  other  order ;  for  we  may  at 
times  take  one  point  in  this  prayer  and  dwell  almost  ex- 
clusively upon  it.  For  a  season  its  sentiment  may  be  so 
prominent  in  our  souls,  that  it  will  come  first.  But  I 
am  speaking  now  of  this  as  a  model  of  devotion,  and  I 
say  that,  as  such,  it  expresses  the  way  in  which  our  de- 
vout thoughts  and  feelings  are  naturally  unfolded. 

First  of  all,  we  say,  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  ^ 
heaven."  And,  surely,  belief  in  God  must  stand  before 
every  other  sentiment.  God  must  be  the  Being  whom 
we  address.  Were  there  no  Deity  the  idea  of  prayer 
would  not  exist.  ■  But  we  must  have  right  conceptions 
of  God ;  and  ere  we  can  say,  "  Hallowed  he  thy  name,"  ^ 
we  must  know  what  that  name  is.  And  having  attained 
the  conception  of  the  Father,  this  sentiment  breaks  spon- 
taneously from  our  hearts,  as  the  expression  of  reverent 
and  filial  homage.  We  heartily  desire  clearer  manifest- 
ations of  Him,  and  that  we  may  more  consistently,  honor 
Him.  But  God's  name  will  not  be  universally  hallowed, 
until  His  dominion  is  universally  felt  and  acknowledged. 
In  order,  then,  that  He  may  be  known  as  the  Father  and 
adored  as  the  God  of  all, — in  order  that  the  blessedness 
of  His  rule  may  extend  through  all  hearts,  we  pray  : 
"  thy  kingdom   come !"      But    all    devout    knowledge 

and   worship  of  God,  involves  a  desire  that  He   may 

17 


194  FOR  TIIINE  IS  THE  KINGDOM, 

reign  not  only  as  He  actually  does  reign,  in  the  power  of 
His  universal  control,  but  also  in  the  voluntary  obedi- 
ence of  His  moral  offspring.  And,  moreover,  all  such 
worship  and  knowledge  must  consist  with  effort  on  our 
part  to  advance  that  reign.  In  close  connection,  then, 
with  our  desire  for  the  coming  of  God's  Kingdom,  we 
pray,  "  thy  will  he  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven  ;" 
for  thus  we  express  our  conception  of  the  real  method 
through  which  His  Kingdom  must  come.  This  petition 
throws  us  upon  our  personal  responsibility ;  but  while 
we  know  how  much  we  resist  the  divine  will,  and  there- 
fore how  much  we  ought  to  do,  we  perceive  in  how 
many  ways  that  will  works  irresistibly,  and,  therefore, 
how  much  we  must  endure  ;  and  we  learn  that  by  res- 
ignation, as  well  as  by  action,  may  His  Kingdom  be  ad- 
vanced in  our  own  souls  and  in  the  souls  of  all  men. 
These  great  moral  desires  will  rise  first  in  a  devout 
mind  ;  and  those  which  are  more  general,  springing  up 
in  the  contemplation  of  God's  Excellence,  will  be  uttered 
before  those  which  are  more  private  and  particular. 
But  the  consideration  of  God's  Will,  leads  us  to  remem- 
ber His  power  :  the  consciousness  of  our  freedom 
suggests  our  limitation,  and  the  necessities  with  which 
we  struggle ;  and  so  we  lift  one  petition  for  temporal 
good,  and  cry,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  But 
quickly   do   our   material   wants   suggest  our   spiritual 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   195 

necessities  ;  quickly  do  mercies  received  remind  us  of 
mercies  neglected,  of  our  ingratitude  and  our  guilt : 
quickly  does  the  hunger  of  the  body  illustrate  the  hun- 
ger of  the  soul,  and  to  our  great  Benefactor,  whom  we 
have  forgotten  and  disobeyed,  we  exclaim,  "  Forgive  us 
our  debts,"  and  learn  how  essential  to  the  spirit  and  pur- 
pose of  this  prayer  it  is  that  we  should  "forgive  our 
debtors."  And  who  that  has  ever  sincerely  uttered  this 
petition  for  pardon,  has  not  shrunk  with  fear  and  shame 
from  the  exposures  of  the  world  without  and  from  his 
own  weakness  within,  and  cried,  "  Lead  us  not  into — 
abandon  us  not  to — temptation  ?"  and  with  a  sense  of 
all  his  dangers,  but  especially  of  the  peril  in  his  own 
heart,  added — "  Deliver  us  from  evil  ?"  Thus  having 
breathed  the  sentiments  of  the  soul  in  a  natural  order,  we 
confirm  all  these  utterances  by  the  Doxology.  "  Accept 
this  homage,"  we  say,  "  grant  these  requests,"  "  For  thine 
is  the  Kingdom,  the  Power,  and  the  Glory,  forever. 
Amen." 

I  do  not  present  this  as  a  complete  analysis  of  these 
sentences,  or  as  exhibiting  every  point  suggested.  I  am 
aware  too  that  in  the  diversities  of  individual  feeling  and 
circumstance,  they  may  have  a  varied  application,  but  I 
make  this  recapitulation  to  illustrate  the  consistency  and 
mutual  relation  of  the  topics  in  the  Prayer ;  and  I  believe 
that  he  who  breathes  it  in  its  essential  significance,  will 


196  FOR  THINE  IS  THE   KINGDOM, 

generally  find  that  it  corresponds  to  the  unfolding  of  his 
spiritual  experience,  to  the  order  in  which  devout  desires 
and  feelings  rise  in  his  soul. 

II.     Consider  the  comprehensiveness  of  this  Prayer. 
If  it  corresponds  to  the  order  of  our  spiritual  experience, 
then,  of  course,  it  must  contain  all  the  great  requisites 
of  devotion.     And,    upon  examination,  we  see  that  it 
does.     We  might  infer  this,  indeed,  from  the  circumstan- 
ces under  which  it  was  first  uttered.     It  was  given  as  a 
model  of  Prayer.     We  are  told  in  Luke,  that  Christ 
taught  it  in  compliance  with  the  request  of  his  disciples 
— "  Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray."     And  in  Matthew,  he 
says  "  When  ye  pray,   say,  our  Father."     As  a  model, 
then,  we  might  expect  to  find  in  it  all  the  elements  of 
devotion.     We  should   not  expect  to  find  in  it  all  the 
multiform  combinations  of  these  elements,  or  a  dilated 
expression  of  them,  such  as  we  may  need  in  the  expe- 
riences of  every-day  life.     Nor  are  we  confined  to  the 
precise  words  before  us.     There  may  be  times  when  we 
shall  be  able  to  say  nothing  else.     There  may  be  times, 
too,  when  our  thoughts  are  so  clear  and  our  desires  so 
compact,  that  we  find  the  best  vehicle  for  our  devotion 
in  this  literal  expression.     But  they  understand  but  little 
of  the  human  spirit  in  its  devout  experiences  who  would 
limit  it  to  just  these  sentences.     Certainly,  the  example 
of  Christ  does  not  teach  this.     He  prayed  as  circum- 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN,   197 

stances  suggested,  or  his  spirit  moved.  So  is  it  with  us. 
There  are  times  when  no  form  will  suffice  ;  when  it 
would  restrain  and  break  our  devotion  ;  when  it  would 
not  give  us  the  relief  we  need,  nor  express  the  burden 
of  our  souls.  There  are  occasions  when  no  litany,  how- 
ever comprehensive  in  its  elements  or  varied  in  its  ap- 
plications, can  do  this,  and  not  even  the  mere  language 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer  ;  but  the  devout  sentiment  bursting 
from  the  heart,  must  come  fittest  to  the  circumstance, 
spontaneously,  gushing  in  a  full  and  unrestricted  tide.  The 
mother  by  the  sick-bed  of  her  child  cannot  command  her 
feelings,  so  as  merely  to  say — "  Deliver  us  from  evil." 
The  famishing  man  cannot  stop  short  with — "  Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread."  The  returning  sinner  must  pour  out 
his  penitence  in  more  words  than  "  Forgive  us  our  debts." 
There  may  be,  there  will  be,  circumstances  in  private 
and  public  devotion,  when  some  particular  sentiment  in 
this  Prayer  will  be  longer  dwelt  upon  and  more  pressing- 
ly  urged.  I  am  not  advocating  prolixity  in  devotion. 
I  know  what  Christ  says  of  "  much  speaking,"  and  of 
"  vam  repetitions  ;"  though  here  evidently  he  condemns 
mere  words,  vain  repetitions ;  but  no  where  does  he 
limit  the  flow  of  the  earnest  spirit  to  one  mold  of  ex- 
pression. 

But  while  the  precise  language  of  this  prayer  is  not  to 
be  considered  as  the   sole  expression  of  devotion,  yet. 


198  FOR  THINE  IS  THE  KINGDOM, 

I  repeat,  as  a  model,  it  contains  the  essence  of  all  sin- 
cere homage  and  supplication.  There  is  nothing  we  do 
say  that  is  not  really  implied  here.  The  germs  of  every 
devout  thought  and  desire  are  in  these  simple  words. 
What  more  can  you  say  of  God  than  to  style  Him 
"  Father  ?"  How  much  better  can  you  express  wor- 
ship than  to  say — "  Hallowed  be  thy  name  ?"  In  what 
way  would  you  solicit  His  protection,  that  would  im- 
ply more  than — "  Deliver  us  from  evil  ?"  How  can  you 
ask  a  higher  good  for  your  soul  than  by  saying  "  Thy 
Will  be  done  ?"  Is  not  the  need  for  earthly  good,  ex- 
pressed in  the  desire  for  "daily  bread?"  Is  not  the 
heaviest  burden  we  bear  relieved,  when  we  sincerely 
cry — "  Forgive  us  our  debts  ?" 

As  a  model  of  devotion,  then,  it  is  wonderful  how  this 
Prayer  is  adjusted  to  our  spiritual  experiences,  and  ex- 
presses all  our  sentiments  and  desires.  Surely,  it  could 
have  come  only  from  one  "  Who  knew  what  was  in 
man."  And  even  though  fragments  of  it  may  be  found 
in  the  Jewish  liturgies,  in  its  present  construction  it  is 
original,  and,  as  such,  in  its  comprehensiveness  and 
adaptation,  it  is  an  illustration  and  an  evidence  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

But  I  would  have  you  notice  farther,  as  an  instance 
of  the  comprehensiveness  of  this  Formula,  that  it  really 
suggests  all   the  great  truths  of  Religion.     Implying 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   199 

the  divine  mission  of  Jesus,  it  proclaims  the  Existence, 
Paternity,  and  Providence  of  God,  the  spiritual  nature 
of  man,  his  sinfulness  and  dependence,  the  doctrines  of 
repentance  and  forgiveness,  and  the  brotherhood  of  the 
human  race.     Of  course,  we  find  these  and  other  truths 
more  distinctly  and  elaborately  stated  in  other  portions 
of  the  Gospel,  but  are  they  not  essentially  contained 
here  ?     Heartily  believing  all   that   the  Lord's  Prayer 
Implies,   do    we   not  possess  the    marrow  of  Christian 
doctrine  ?     If  this  be  so,  we  might  better  test  the  ortho- 
doxy of  men  by  the  sincerity  with  which  they  utter  this 
prayer,  than  by  the  logical  definitions  of  a  creed  ?    For, 
language  may  misrepresent  a  man's  meaning,  his  rea- 
soning may  be  confused,  but  the  sentiments  he  breathes 
in  true  devotion  always  express  his  deepest  convictions, 
and  reveal  what  he  is  really  trying  to  say  by  his  formulas 
and  symbols.     But  if  we  think  that  the  broad  diversities 
of  opinion  which  exist  among  the  professed  disciples  of 
Jesus,  cannot  thus  be  reconciled,  we  must  at  least  ad- 
mit, that  the  universal  usage  of  this  prayer  indicates  an 
essential  unity  that  is  more  vital  than  their  antagonism. 
Whatever  theu'  variations  of  doctrine,  it  is  certain  that 
this  manual  is  comprehensive  enough  to  consist  with 
them  all,  and  in  it  all  their  differences  melt  into  a  com- 
mon expression.     Through  every  age  of  the  church 
amid  the  uproar  of  sects,  and  the  din  of  controversy. 


200  FOR   THINE   IS  THE   KINGDOM, 

this  prayer  has  gone  up  as  the  utterance  of  one  un- 
divided heart ;  and,  when  they  will  hear  the  beating  of 
this  sweet  accordance,  all  Christians  may  recognize  how 
identical  are  the  Sources  of  their  belief,  and  the  Ob- 
jects of  their  love.  Even  now,  I  repeat,  it  shows  how 
closely  related  at  the  altar,  are  men  widely  separated 
by  the  dogma  and  the  creed. 

I  will  just  allude  to  one  more  illustration  of  the  com- 
prehensiveness of  this  Prayer,  and  pass  on  to  another 
topic.  I  mean  its  adaptation  to  different  periods  and 
conditions  of  human  existence.  I  have  said  that  it  un- 
folds in  the  order  of  man's  spiritual  experience,  but  we 
must  remember  that  this  is  an  experience  of  diverse  tone 
and  intensity.  While  those  great  conceptions  of  God 
and  His  government,  of  need  and  weakness,  of  sinful- 
ness and  duty,  will  always  animate  a  sincere  utterance 
of  this  Prayer,  those  conceptions  may  rise  in  different 
elevations  of  the  human  soul,  and  indicate  a  greater  or 
less  compass  of  thought.  This  is  a  prayer  for  all  ranks 
and  conditions.  For  the  multitude  on  the  mountain  and 
the  Rabbi  in  the  synagogue  ;  for  the  penitent  prodigal 
and  the  advanced  saint ;  and  it  meets  and  conveys  the 
experiences  of  each.  The  peasant  finds  in  its  simple 
sentences  a  vehicle  for  his  homage  and  his  wants,  while 
the  devout  philosopher  knows  no  form  of  utterance  so 
pregnant.     It  is  the  first  prayer  the  mother  teaches,  the 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   201 

first  prayer  that  falters  on  the  hps  of  the  child  ;  and  it 
is  SO  easy  and  so  adaptive  that  he  carries  it  through  all 
the  rough  contacts  of  the  world,  along  with  the  best 
memories  of  home.  And  nothing  so  fit  as  this  can  the 
man  breathe  from  his  lips,  to  purify  his  heart,  to  strength- 
en his  good  resolutions,  and  to  confirm  his  hope,  as  he 
walks  through  the  lengthening  shadows  and  among  the 
withered  leaves,  in  the  autumn  of  life. 

III.  Finally  ;  let  me  urge  the  argument  wdiich  this 
Prayer  presents  for  devotion  and  a  devout  life.  By  con- 
structing the  model,  Christ  enjoined  the  hahit  of  prayer, 
as  he  has  done  elsewhere  both  by  precept  and  example. 
Yet  this  is  not  an  arbitrary  injunction.  The  form  was 
made  in  answer  to  an  earnest  desire.  But  in  thus  ap- 
pointing an  expression  for  supplication  and  homage,  Je- 
sus did  not  merely  meet  the  wants  of  his  immediate  dis- 
ciples, but  he  has  exposed  a  class  of  emotions,  which, 
consciously  or  vaguely,  stir  in  every  human  spirit. 
Prayer  is  natural.  Every  man  has  in  him  the  elements 
of  religion ;  folded  up  it  may  be  in  secularity  and  sin, 
unheeded  and  forgotten  ;  yet,  at  times — in  some  hour  of 
silent  thought,  or  some  shock  of  Providence — respond- 
ing like  a  great  deep  to  the  highest  realities  of  being ;  to 
the  mysteries  of  God  and  immortality,  of  life  and  death. 
Oh  !  there  is  not  one  so  hard,  so  reckless,  drifted  away 
so  utterly  from  the  current  of  humanity,  as  never  to  ex- 


202  FOR  THINE   IS  THE  KINGD03I, 

perience  blessed  desires,  and  more  than  earthly  inflnen- 
ces.  There  is  not  one  who  has  not,  at  some  period, 
felt  the  impulse  and  the  necessity  of  prayer,  and  lifted 
up  his  cry  to  God  as  his  helper.  But  the  wonder  is 
that  these  seasons  are  not  more  common,  more  habitual ; 
that,  living  as  we  do  in  contact  with  the  infinite  God, 
wrapped  around  by  his  almighty  Spirit,  we  should  not 
feel  it  more.  That,  considering  the  magnificence  of  the 
universe  about  us — the  varying  loveliness  of  the  day, 
the  rolling  splendors  of  the  night,  we  should  not  gladly 
seize  our  privilege  to  pass  within  the  veil  and  commune 
face  to  face  with  the  Being  who  made  it  all.  That, 
throbbing  with  the  consciousness  of  filial  dependence, 
we  should  not  lean  upon  the  arm  of  our  everlasting 
Father.  That,  knowing  our  exposures,  our  follies,  and 
our  faults,  we  do  not  seek  the  succors  of  His  Spirit, 
and  the  shield  of  His  protection.  That,  with  no  inter- 
vening meditation,  no  sense  of  the  invisible  God,  we 
should  sink  to  the  embrace  of  slumber  and  leap  into 
the  morning  light ;  making  our  homes  but  inns  of  bodi- 
ly refreshment,  and  all  outside  a  mart  of  worldly  care  ; 
as  though  life,  embosomed  as  it  is  in  wonder,  breathing 
as  it  does  with  unseen  influences,  were  but  a  flow  of  sen- 
sual interests,  and  "  rounded  with  a  sleep." 

And  yet  it  is  so.     Notwithstanding  this  religious  con- 
sciousness in  men,  notwithstanding  their  spiritual  neces- 


THE  POWER.  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   203 

sities  which  they  sometimes  feel,  there  is  a  common 
neglect  of  devotion  and  a  strange  reluctance  to  engage  in 
it.  It  would  occupy  more  time  than  it  is  necessary  to 
use,  to  exhibit  all  the  reasons  for  this  disinclination.  No 
excuse  which  may  be  offered  for  it,  vi^ill  stand  an  honest 
examination  for  a  moment ;  nay,  the  very  excuse,  it  is 
likely,  will  only  the  more  demonstrate  the  necessity  for 
prayer.  Do  we  plead  unworthiness  ?  is  not,  then,  that 
petition — "  Forgive  us  our  debts,"  the  very  thing  we 
need  to  utter  ?  Do  we  fear  that  our  prayers  and  our 
conduct  would  be  inconsistent  ?  will  not  habitual  and 
sincere  prayer  make  our  best  aspirations  and  our  daily 
actions  more  at  one  ?  Or  are  we  disposed  to  associate 
the  practice  of  devotion  with  weakness  and  ridicule  ? 
Let  only  one  clear  thought  of  the  realities  involved  in 
and  implied  by  that  practice,  break  upon  us,  and  it  will 
solemnize  all  our  future  life,  and  lift  it  above  a  trivial 
worldliness,  and  a  practical  atheism.  Never  is  human 
nature  so  strong  as  when  it  leans  upon  God,  never  is  its 
dignity  so  manifest  as  when  man  "bursts  into  the  infinite 
and  kneels." 

Or,  it  may  be  said — "  It  is  not  true  prayer  that  we 
neglect  or  dislike ;  but  it  is  formality,  it  is  superstitious 
observance,  it  is  Phariseeism  and  cant,"  Of  a  deaden- 
ing formality  it  is  well  for  us  to  beware.  We  cannot 
too  constantly  remember  that  prayer  is  a  spirit  not  a 


204  FOR   THINE  IS  THE   KINGDOM, 

form.  It  is  not  essentially  a  motion  of  the  lips  but  of 
the  soul.  It  does  not  consist  in  articulate  words  but  in 
earnest  desires.  And  thus,  no  doubt,  every  heartfelt 
sentiment,  expressed  or  unexpressed,  may  be  a  prayer. 
No  doubt  every  diligent  endeavor  is  one ;  and,  in  this 
sense,  the  husbandman  prays  when  he  turns  up  the  fur- 
rows to  the  spring  rains ;  in  this  sense  the  philosopher 
prays  when  he  seeks  after  some  great  truth.  But  this 
is  not  the  whole  idea  of  prayer.  For  that  is  the  con- 
scious communion  of  our  spirits  with  God's.  It  is  the 
concentration  of  our  souls  in  a  special  act.  Not  confi- 
ned to  words  but  often  expressed  in  words  ;  not  limited 
to  times  and  places,  but  assisted  by  these,  and  without 
some  attention  to  these  not  likely  to  be  exercised  at  all. 
Let  us  beware  of  all  cant,  too.  Let  us  have  no  forced 
looks,  no  unreasonable  constraints.  Let  us  cherish  the 
loftiest  spiritual  moods  we  may,  and  feel  that  every- 
where and  at  all  seasons,  and  in  the  most  silent  breath- 
ings of  the  soul,  we  can  pray  ;  but  surely  we  must  see 
that  set  times  and  vocal  utterances  are  very  efficient  in 
producing  such  spiritual  and  habitual  devotion;  and 
therelore  we  have  such  a  manual  as  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
But  there  is  a  skeptical  objection  to  prayer  which  it 
will  be  well  to  notice  here,  especially  as  it  may  help  ex- 
plain that  reluctance  to  which  I  am  now  alluding.  It  is 
sometimes  said — "  What  is   the   ^ise  of  Prayer  ?     Does 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORY,  FOREVER.  AMEN.   205 

it  change  God  ?  Does  it  alter  the  laws  of  nature  ?" 
Now  there  are  several  answers  to  this  interrogatory  ob- 
jection. In  the  first  place,  as  I  have  shown,  prayer  is 
really  a  necessity  of  our  nature,  an  instinctive  impulse 
of  the  human  soul  towards  God.  This  alone  is  an  evi- 
dence that  it  has  a  use.  It  has  been  employed  in  all 
ages  and  in  all  lands,  and  nothing  so  instinctive  and 
universal  exists  without  a  meaning  and  an  end.  Again, 
Prayer  has  a  beneficial  operation  upon  ourselves.  Surely, 
I  need  not  dwell  upon  illustrations  of  this — upon  the 
benefit  of  communion  with  the  best  Being  in  the  uni- 
verse, upon  the  strength  imparted  by  the  exercise  of 
faith  which  prayer  imphes,  upon  the  practical  blessedness 
of  that  spirit  of  forgiveness  and  penitence  which  we 
breathe.  However  much  we  may  sink  or  go  astray, 
prayer  always  lifts  us  to  a  higher  mood,  and  sets  our 
feet  in  the  right  path.  If  we  habitually  and  sincerely 
utter  it,  it  will  transform  and  sanctify  our  lives. 

But  I  deny  the  force  of  the  argument  suggested  in  the 
proposition  that  prayer  cannot  change  God,  nor  alter 
the  laws  of  nature.  I  do  not  say  that  prayer  can  efTect 
either  of  these  results.  But  I  do  say  that  a  direct  an- 
swer to  prayer  from  God  does  not  imply  any  change  in 
Him,  nor  in  His  ordinances ;  but  simply  that  in  prayer 
a  certain  instrumentality  is  used  upon  the  exercise  of 

which  certain  results  will  follow,  which  would  not  ensue 

18 


206  FOR  THINE   IS   THE   KINGDOM, 

without  the  use  of  this  instrumentaUty.     If  a  man  should 
pray  that  a  harvest  may  spring  up  without  any  seed,  he 
would  utter  a  prayer  to   which  he  could  not  expect  an 
answer.     But  who  shall  say   that  his  prayer  is  not  di- 
rectly answered   when  he  asks  for  ahility  to  sow  the 
seed  ?     Who  can  determine  the  mysterious  methods  by 
which  strength  is  imparted  ?     Now  it  is  an  ordinance  of 
God  that   the  harvest  shall  depend  upon  the  sowing  of 
seed.     If  that  instrumentality  is  not  employed  no  result 
follows.     But,  still,  the  possibilities  all  exist  whether  the 
means  are  used  or  not.    And  should  it  have  so  happened 
that  man  had  sowed  the  seed  but  once,  contrary  to  all 
human  experience,  past  and  future,  a  harvest  would  have 
sprung  up.     But   would  this   unusual  fact  have  violated 
any  law  of  nature  ?     Certainly  not.     The  strange  result 
would  have  indicated  simply  a  compliance   with  estab- 
lished terms,  which  compliance  had  not  been  previously 
rendered.     So  is  it,  as  I  conceive,  with  prayer.     It  is  a 
spiritual  instrumentality  upon  the  employment  of  which 
certain    results  are  contingent.     And  that  God  should 
grant  peculiar  and  direct  blessings  upon  the  touching  of 
that  one  spring,  which  He  will  give  in  no  other  way,  is 
no  more  miraculous  than  that  He  should  give  the  har- 
vest when   the   seed  is  sown.     To   say  that  He  grants 
answers  to  prayer  as  well  as  to  labor,  is  only  saying  that 
man  works  with  God  and  God  with  man  in  more  ways 


THE   roWLR,  AM)  Tir.:   (il.oliv,    FOKKVr.R.      AMEN.      207 

than  one.  How  lie  answers  prayer  is  a  mystery,  but 
it  is  no  more  a  mystery  than  the  process  which  converts 
the  kernel  into  the  fuU  corn  in  the  ear — than  the  con- 
nection between  thought  and  action — than  the  existence 
of  God  and  the  methods  of  His  communication  with  the 
human  soul. 

But,  after  all,  those  who  really  cherish  the  spirit  of 
devotion,  find  the  best  answer  to  all  these  cavils.  Theii 
immortal  desires,  their  ever-recurring  wants,  their  con- 
scious weakness,  is  a  sufficient  argument  for  Prayer. 
Let  us  look  into  our  own  souls  and  we  shall  find  it  so. 
Let  us  consider  all  our  condition,  and  heed  the  great 
suggestion  to  devotion  which  Christ  has  given  us  ! 

But  I  said  not  only  that  this  prayer  affords  an  argu- 
ment for  devotion,  but  for  a  devout  life.  This  is  no 
more  than  a  reiteration  of  what  I  have  frequently  said 
hi  the  delivery  of  these  discourses ;  no  more  than  a  repe- 
tition of  the  truth  that  true  prayer  consists  in  action 
as  well  as  aspiration.  If  the  sincere  utterance  of  these 
devout  sentiments  is  necessary  to  all  good  conduct, 
neither  can  we  consistently  utter  it  without  endeavoring 
to  conform  our  conduct  to  its  sentiments. 

And  consider,  I  beseech  you,  what  must  be  the  effect 
if  we  carry  out  the  spirit  of  this  prayer.  If  we  should 
live  in  and  from  that  spirit,  how  would  life,  and  duty, 
and  our  fellow-men,  and  our  souls,  and  God  appear  to 


208  FOR   THINE   IS  TIIK  KINGDOM, 

US  ?  If  this  Prayer  expresses  the  true  order  of  aL 
spiritual  experience ;  if  it  comprehends  all  the  great 
truths  of  Religion ;  then  does  it  contain  all  the  elements 
of  a  good  life.  And  as  I  now  draw  these  discourses  to 
a  close  which  for  so  many  Sabbath  evenings  have  re- 
quired my  labor  and  your  attention,  I  know  not  that  I 
could  make  a  more  fitting  appeal  than  to  urge  you  so  to 
study  this  prayer  as  to  understand  it,  so  to  understand  it 
as  to  heartily  and  daily  breathe  its  sentiments,  so  to 
breathe  its  sentiments  as  to  make  them  living  springs  of 
action  in  your  souls,  as  to  re-present  them  in  all  youi 
lives.  This  is  no  more  than  exhorting  you  to  live  as 
Christians  and  not  as  Atheists ;  to  live  as  heirs  of  im- 
mortality not  as  mere  creatures  of  time ;  to  live  not  as 
animals  but  as  children  of  God.  To  that  result  may  He 
sanctify  this  series  of  discourses !  To  that  result  may 
He  crown  them  with  His  blessing ! 

As  I  finish  this  work,  I  remember  that  this  is  the  day 
on  which  the  old  Church  celebrates  with  peculiar  honor 
the  Resurrection  of  Jesus.  As  though  it  were  a  new 
truth,  the  bells  of  Easter  morning  have  pealed  round 
the  world  the  glad  announcement  that  he  who  had 
slept  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  at  early  dawn  withdrew 
the  eclipse  of  death,  and  broke  forth  from  the  sepulchre 
— the  Lord  of  Life  and  Glory.  And  as  the  mighty 
declaration  echoes  in  our  ears,  and  our  torpid  worldliness 


THE  POWER,  AND  THE  GLORV,  FOREVER.   AMEN.   209 

is  shaken,  by  the  rush  of  angel's  feet,  is  it  not  indeed 
like  a  new  truth  to  reaUze  by  this  Resurrection,  that 
we  too  shall  live  forever  ?  That  the  shadows  which  fled 
from  the  Savior's  tomb  were  as  the  vails  of  our  own 
mortality  vanishing  in  the  light  of  God  ? 

If  this  be  so,  then  let  us  live  no  more  in  shadows  but 
in  realities.  Let  the  Prayer  that  Christ  taught  us,  and 
which  we  so  often  need  among  the  broken  passages  of 
life,  foretoken  the  verities  and  lift  us  to  the  communion 
of  heaven ! 


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